BlliliiSllK^^tiill'ii 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

Slrelf MSSS d^S 

^5*5^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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ONNALINDA 



EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS. 



From the Right Hon. the EARL of LYTTON, 
G.C.B., G. C.S.I. 

' I have read "Onnalinda" with attention and pleasure, a}id without 
stofipins till I had finished it. _ '1 he story is, in itself, a very pretty one, 
and is told with gre'it animation of movement and picturesquenessof 
description. . . I congratulate the author on having invested with 
interest a subject that deserves it.' 

From the Right Hon. JOHN BRIGHT, M.P. 

' I have read your poem " Onnalinda " with great interest and 
pleasure. There is life and beauty in it which I have much enjoyed. 
. . . Your poem will excite sympathy, and IhopeitwiU do sorriething 
to soften the fate of the Tribes whom the white man has disinherited.' 

From JOSEPH COWEN, Esq., M.P. 

' I have only had an opportunity of looking rr-pidly over the boolc, 
but I have been very much struck with the force and beauty of 
the passages I have read. . . I entirely sympathise with the author's 
views, and wish liim success in his exertions for the red man. . . We 
have unfortunately dealt in the American fashion, too often, with red 
and black and brown men ourselves.' 

From CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D. 

'. . . And not only as a story is " Onnalinda" attractive ; here and 
there are felicities of thought and phrase which spring only from the fancy 
of the true poet. . . The reader is lured onward through this forest 
romance as if led by the hand of the charming Onnalinda herself.' 

From DANIEL WILSON, LL.D., F.R.S.E. 

'I have now had time to glance over "Onnalinda " sufficiently to 
enable me to return you my hearty thanks for the pleasure it has afforded 
me. I have been surprised and gratified by its epic force, reminding me 
at times of Sir Walter Scott in his attractive style of poetic narration.' 

From the Rev. ANDREW WHITE, D.D., Ph.D. 

'I have read and re-read "Onnalinda." . . There is in it a delightful 
imagery and an energetic movement that impel the reader forward, and 
the verse— so full of musical expression— has, like the same author's 
" Belle Mahone," sung itself into my memory. Several incidents in 
the poem touched me very much. Tears filled my eyes as I read them, 
and I think them very sweet and tender.' 



ONNALINDA 



A ROMANCE 



j/h.'^ 



BY 



CNAUGHTON 



If I could write the beauty of your eyes, 

And in fresh numbers number all your graces, 

The age to come would say. This poet lies — 

Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces 

Shakspeare 




LONDON 

KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, & CO., i PATERNOSTER SQUARE 

1885 






Copyright, 1884 
By G. p. Putnam's Sons 

Copyright, 1885 
By J. H. MCNaughton 



TO 



ORONHYATEKHA. 

President of the Grand Council of Chiefs of Canada : 

TO you, as the distinguished representative of a 

RACE WHOSE ORIGIN IS BEYOND THE REACH OF 

history, AND WHOSE HEROIC DEEDS ARE 

A FITTING THEME FOR ROMANCE 

AND SONG, THIS POEM OF 



n mi tin H ii 



IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. 



The invasion of the Genesee Valley, in 
Western New York, by the French under 
Denonville, and the heroic deeds of the 
Iroquois in defence of their homes, are 
historical. But history is vague and leg- 
endary concerning the achievements of 
Onnalinda, the Iroquois princess, whose 
brilliant adroitness baffled the French gen- 
eral, and whose fascinating beauty drew to 
her side the chivalrous Captain Stark. 
The loves and adventures of the gallant 
captain and the charming Onnalinda, to- 
gether with the story of Ronald Kent and 
" Glinting Star," are in the province of 
Romance, and the theme of this tale. 



ONNALINDA. 



PART I. 



She by descent from royal lineage caine 

Of ancient kings and queens, that had of yore 

Their sceptres stretched from east to western shore. 

Faerie Queen e, Book I. 



ONNALINDA. 



PART /. 
I 

In the Forest. Alone. 
" Last night — what did he mean to say ? 

]\Iy hand in his he tremulous prest ; 

I heard a throbbing within his breast r 
' Good-by,' he faltered, and turned away — 
But in his voice and in his eye 
Was something more than that ' Good-by.' 

" The white moon shone on his earnest face 
As he held my hand, and silent stood. 
Do men woo thus in a dolorous mood ? 

Then a solemn owl may woo with grace. 

This man ! can he be my father's foe 

And lover of mine ? To-night I '11 know. 



ONNALINDA. 

" To-night when the moon shines full in his foce 
I '11 there read clear each thought of his heart } 
He shall not know, as I stand apart, 

How keen my glance each line shall trace. 

Ah, well, my heart ! do I love this man — 

So soon ? Perhaps I do — or can." 

She paused. Around she gazed, and then, 
Musing, she spoke to herself again : 

" What if my chieftain-sire should know — 
Should know I parley with foe of his ? 
Well, what if I foil his enemies 

With weapon keener than blade or bow ? 

Perchance this Saxon loves me well. . . 

Sink low — O sun ! — to-night will tell." 



Alone she stood, a maiden sweet. 

Within the woodland's deepening shade ; 
One beam of sunset through the glade 

Glimmered in gold about her feet. 



ONNALINDA. 

Musing, she lingered in covert there, 
Far from the clamour of camp's alarms ; 
Above her a beech flung out his arms 

As if to shield a form so fair. 

Near her a brook in jocund glee 
Leapt chattering down to the Genesee. 



II 
A winsome girl of native grace, 

And a moulded form the loveliest ; 

Scarce two-and-twenty Junes had kissed 
With breath of the rose her charming face — 
Brunette, with crimson tinged and blent ; 

As if 'neath Saxon face there glowed 

The warm maroon of Indian blood 
And stirred a doubt of her descent, — 
A doubt that still intenser grew 
With her rich garb of Tyrian hue. 
But her queenly grace and soft attire 
Bespoke a line from noble sire. 

E 2 



ONNALINDA. 

Around her bodice, trimly laced, 
Fell glossy falls of her raven hair, 
Half veiling, half revealing there, 

The zone that clasped her lissome waist. 

In purple folds her kirtle fell — 

The rimpling hem just kissed her feet, 
In shoon of chamois fitted neat 

As glove and palm of courtly belle ; 

Beneath her instep, proud and high, 

A flower could bloom, a bee could fly. 

The charms of youth and beauty met 
In Onnalinda — sweet brunette ! 



Ill 
In a lonely nook why lingered she ? 

Though on the ground her eyes were bent, 
A glance afar she frequent sent, 
As if in pleased expectancy. 



ONNALINDA. 



Deep in her dark eyes' lustrous glance 
Glistened the star of bright Romance. 



IV 

The sun behind the glimmering hill 
His amber lances slow withdrew, 
And twilight shadows a glamour threw 

Around the woodlands soft and still. 

A crackling sound beyond the glade 
Reached Onnalinda's vigilant ear ; 
Then startled owl thrid by anear, 

Flapping across the forest shade. 

Quicker her heart beat at each sound — 

Silence and darkness gathering round. 

She listened. Sudden a rustling tread 

She heard approach thro' the darkling wood. 
Flushed to the ear, alert she stood, 

'Twixt hope and fear disquieted. 



ONNALINDA. 

Soon thro' the woodland tripping light 
Came footsteps she was wont to hear ; 
No form she saw, but to her ear 

That sound was palpable as sight. 

If woman hear, what need to see ? 
One step she knows intuitively ! 



V 

A manly form with cap of blue 

Approached. His epauletted coat, 
Bright-buttoned trimly to his throat, 

Of rank and fame was symbol true. 

But more his eye and bearing told 
Than any outward symbol could ; 
(Escutcheons mark the noble blood, 

But mien and port the noble-souled ;) 

Needing no badge nor gilded mace — 

Chivalric honour in his face. 



ONNALINDA. 

O'er bush and brash he supple skips 
With form erect ; his visage bright 
With azure eyes ; his beard of night, 

Like raven wings above his lips. 

Heroic calmness in his face 
Showed valour 'neath a gentle grace. 



VI 

" Brief be our words to-night," — 

he said, 

And pressed her hand in eager haste ; 

His words foreboding o'er her cast 
Shadows of some impending dread; — 

" But start not, Onnalinda sweet ! 
Though swift I come, on hurrying feet, 
Through rustling brake and forest dun 
With greetings in an anxious tone, — 
No harm betides thee, gentle one. 



ONNALINDA. 

And yet, if rumour tricks me not, 
Alert with stratagem and plot 

The midnight hour shall be. 
My wary scout from yonder hill 
Saw hurried signals that reveal 
Some tumult rife that bodes of ill — 

Some pending strategy : 
Thy chieftain-sire, brave Kawanute, 
And warriors of moccas'ined foot, 
Are gathering swift from hunt and chase 
At Rounded Cove, the mustering place." 



" Such signals " — Onnalinda said — 
" May oftentimes foreshadow ill. 
But oft, to try their speed and skill, 

'Mong warriors false alarms are spread. 
As fawn is bred to flee from harm 
When stamps the doe a false alarm — 

Thus wary is the warrior bred. 

My clan the Saxon's art would meet 

With weasel's eye and fox's feet ! 



ONNALINDA. 

Perchance — alas! — there 's peril near; 
Perchance 't is death to linger here ! " 

HE. 

No fear the Saxon warriors know 
Of lurking spy or open foe. 
One fear alone the bravest feel 
Keener than lance of bristling steel : 
'Neath one bright glance of Beauty's eye 
Trembling they quail — they pine — they sigh ! 
What if deep plots are lurking laid 
To tangle the feet in ambuscade ? 
We smile at such — at snare or threat — 
But quail 'neath glance of sweet brunette ! 

But say, when from the camp you came 

Where were the warriors ? 

ONNALINDA. 

Hunting game. 

HE. 

And of those warriors, is there none 



3 ONNALINDA. 

Watching your footsteps ? 

ONNALINDA. 

There is one. 

HE. 

One — who is he ? 

ONNALINDA, 

A warrior, brave, 
But silent as a forest grave. 

" And therefore to be feared ? " 

— said he. 
" I know not," 

— crimsoning, said she. 



VII 

Silent he stood, with downcast eyes ; 
A sudden doubt his heart oppressed, 
Like one who sees, low in the west, 

Dark clouds that threaten the sunny skies. 



ONNALINDA. tl 

"I know not." — 

In her words a doubt— 
A dim surmise and mystery — 
That roused the phantom Jealousy, 

A shadow Love is never without. 

And as she spoke, a glance she sent 

Oblique across the forest glade, 
And turned an ear as if intent 

On distant sound from ambuscade. 
Heard she a signal ? — was it meant 

For friend, or foe — for man, or maid ? 
No heed gave he ; another theme 
In heart and brain now reigned supreme. 

Touched deep with a mysterious sting ■ 
At Onnalinda's words of doubt, 
He strove adroit to draw her out — 

Feigning a careless questioning : 

" Perchance this warrior's silent tongne 
Tattled and prattled gay, when jou/ig ? * 



ONNALINDA. 
ONNALINDA. 

Who talks the least I call him wise — 
Words are but dust thrown in the eyes. 

HE. 

Then far the wisest you would call 
A sphinx who will not talk at all, 
Or talks in tropes equivocal. 

ONNALINDA. 

No, yes, and no. I 've heard him say : 
" The wise man mingles yea and nay — 
At once both nods and shakes his head " — 
This is the way, the wise man said. 

HE. 

Such wisdom comes with veteran age, — 
Is he your tribal seer and sage ? 

ONNALINDA. 

Age but a test or proof supplies — 

The (ools ^roza foolish ; the wise more wise. 



ONNALINDA. I3 

VIII 

About the pretty bush he beat, 

But stirred no quarry in his quest ; 

The bird, to lure the hunter's feet, 

Ranged, fluttering, round her hidden nest. 

So Onnalinda, bright and shrewd. 

Would Eben's anxious quest elude : 

She answers wise-obscure, and thus 

He gropes in phrase ambiguous. 

He feared to ask her frank and fair 
Of him who stirred his jealousy — 
Ashamed to ask : " A lover, he ? " — 
He hunted here, he angled there, 
AVith fisher's hook but ill-concealed— 
The point was through the bait revealed ! 

Undaunted still he questioned her 

With ill-disguised anxiety ; 

And still as archly answered she 

With flowery trope and fallacy — 
The shrewd, the charming sophister ! 



14 ONNALINDA, 

HE. 

Young Indian warrior, we are told, 
Makes hasty wooing, brief and bold. 



ONNALINDA. 

Nimble his pace in love or chase, 
And both his eyes are in his face ; 
I 'm told a pale-face in canoe 
Will one way look, another go — 
Will eastward face, and westward row ! 



HE. 

You think, sweet one, when white man woos 
He feigns one thing, and another does ? 



ONNALINDA. 

Has he two tongues ? So said my mother ; 
He woos one maid and wins another ; 
To that one throws a mimic kiss 
To kindle jealous love in this ; 



ONNALINDA. 15 

Flirting with blonde to win the brown : 
Like fire-brand in one dwelling thrown 
To burn another in the town ! 

HE. 

Your " mother " said ? — How could she know ? 

ONNALINDA. 

Not forest-born was she — no, no ; 
Her eye was blue, her brow was snow. 

HE, 

A Saxon, she ? 

ONNALINDA. 

Sweet face, so fair ! 

HE. 

Then like . . . like thee ? 

ONNALINDA. 

As well compare 



l6 ONNALINDA. 

A murky torcli to her — a star 
Shining among the Blest Afar. 



HE. 

Then a lovely woodland nymph was she,- 
Not forest-born ? 



ONNALINDA. 

From o'er the sea, — 
Where blooming hedge-rows carolled sweet, 
And heather blossomed 'neath her feet. 
At quiet eve she oft would tell 
Of scenes enchanting, and would dwell 
With trembling lip, and tenderly, 
On home beloved, beyond the sea ; 
Of twilight porch, with ivy pent ; 
Of castle wall and battlement ; 
Of arch antique and turret high. 
And gilded spires that fret the sky ; 
Of tender lawn in bright demesne 
Soft as the velvet shoon of queen ; 



ONNALINDA. 17 

Of gateway whence of old there went 
Knights to the joust and tournament. 
. . . You wonder ? Sir, I pardon you — ■ 
The tale is strange. 

HE. 

I 'd swear 't is true,— 
A myth for truth I would admit 
When lips so sweet have uttered it ! 

. . I marvel why from such abode 
She sought retreat in solitude 
And cheerless gloom of pathless wood. 
And yet why marvel ? Well I know 
A mighty Wizard who may throw 
A veil of magic o'er our eyes, 
And lead us on through mysteries, 
— Of no ignoble blood, I ween. 
The mother of the forest queen ? 

ONNALINDA. 

Forgive me, for I love to dwell 
On tales so sweet she used to tell, 



l8 ONNALINDA. 

Of highland home she loved so well : 

A castle girt with cliff and scaur 
O'erlooking lovely vale afar ; 
Holding in bright expanse of green 
An azure lake that smiled serene ; 
An emerald marge its bosom bound, 

With pink and silver shells bedight, 
Like dazzling necklace clasped around 

Beauty's soft neck of snowy white. 
Northward the purple mountains high 

Arose thro' veil of silver mist, 

And in the haze clandestine kissed 
The flirting clouds that flaunted by. 
She loved to tell of paths that wound 
The heathery mountain sides around, 
A lowly cottage here and there, 
The home of hardy highlander, 
Who, when the toilsome day was o'er, 

And grateful shades of evening fell, 
With dame and bairns about the door 

Would merrily make the pibroch swell ; 



ONNALINDA. I9 

From crag to crag the peal resounding, 

Echoing through each bosky glen, 
Till, from the distant cliffs rebounding 

Ebbing in murmurs back again, 
As billows bound from rocky coast, 
Ebbing, and in the sea are lost. 
. . , And oft my mother fain would tell 
Of lordly home and stately hall. 
Of marble floor and pictured wall 

And ceilings ribbed with oak and deal ; 
Of arms and armour — shields bedight 
With tinctured gules emblazoned bright — ^ 

Telling romance of gallant knight. 

HE. 

Bright as the tale of chivalry ! 

To-night I '11 dream of all things fair : 

Of looming castles in the air. 
Of lords and ladies of high degree, 

Of stately halls and gilded rooms 

Sweet-scented with the heather-blooms, — 
A charming tale : a fantasy ? 



ONNALINDA. 
ONNALINDA, 

Is it SO Strange a woodland girl 
Should claim a grandsire in an earl ? 



HE. 

I know a woodland nymph so sweet 
An earl would meekly kiss her feet ! 
Worthy to grace a royal reign 
With forty earls to bear her train ! 



ONNALINDA. 

A Saxon maid ? 



HE. 

I cannot say 
Whether a Saxon, Gaul, or Gael ; 
She is not dark, she is not pale, 
Soft twilight — neither night nor day — 
Tinged with the blush of evening sky, 
Vermeil and pearl in rivalry ; 



ONNALINDA. 21 

As if neath Saxon's cheek there glcved 
The warm maroon of Indian blood. 

(He paused. She smiled at his device. 
Then added he from " Paradise " :) 

" Her cheek's soft tincture, even the brain 
Shall trace so fine a tint in vain." 



ONNALINDA. 

Truly, a lovely girl is she ! 

My mother oft was wont to tell 

Of one like her you paint so well, 

Beloved by bard of Italy. 

— But listen . . . Hark ! — do you not hear 

Sounds of alarm, of peril near ? 



HE. 

I heed it not, (some wandering breeze 
Wailing its sorrow to the trees,) 
I hear, I see but mysteries : 



ONNALINDA. 

Shuttled, as warp with woof, I see 
Simplicity with complexity ! 
Your life's enigma, or I err, 
Needs an expert interpreter. 
These solitudes have ne'er before 
Listened to mediaeval lore. 

ONNALINDA. 

You err. Sweet was its echoing 
With songs my mother used to sing. 
She sang Torquato's tender lay 

Of him who at the stake had died 

To challenge Death, and win his bride — 
The matchless maid Sofronia. 

She told me tales of Greece and Rome ; 
She sung of Goth and Norman king ; 
But most she loved — ah ! loved to sing 

Sweet Gaelic songs of highland home ! 
And in that castle, high and broad, 
One little room, a bright abode, — 
Books, music, pictures — radiant room ! — 
Sweet with the scent of heather-bloom. 



ONNALINDA. 23 

IX 

Deeper and darker his suspense 
Shrouded in mist and doubt intense, — 
As brighter and lovelier still grew she, 
Darker in doubt's suspense stood he ! 

(As the young wren oft lifts its wing — 

To fly from nest oft threatening — 

Vexed with restraint, and braving fate 

At last it darts precipitate ; 

So he^ impatient of restraint, 

Of thwarted scheme and hope deferred, 

Restive and bolder, like the bird 

He darted forth precipitant 

With winged words ; their force direct 

Her shield of wit could not deflect :) 



*' Whence came your mother — when and why ? 
You speak of home beyond the sea 
And hedge-rows — all is mystery. 

Forgive me if I urge reply." 



24 ONNALINDA. 

Then Onnalinda answered shrewd : 

" What if 't is true a woodland girl 

Shall claim a grandsire in an earl 
Of proud manorial habitude ? 
Armorial signs will not gainsay — 

Of title the unerring guide ; 

And now your shrewdness shall decide 
His rank by his insignia, — 

'T is thus : Upon his coronet 

The leaves above the pearls are set." 



X 

Awhile deep musing mute stood he — 
Like baffled general in assault 
When fortress moat compels a halt 

To compass the emergency — 

When — hark ! — upon his watchful ear 
A sound from far. Not loud halloo, 



ONNALINDA. 25 

But such as wary hunters blow 
'T.wixt thumbs — a whistle low, but clear ; 

A sound the wanderer to direct, 
Or signal to be circumspect — 
A vigilant tone, as if 't were blown 
Subdued, for watchful ear alone. 

And hark ! again — that sound renewed, 
Louder, and echoing thro' the wood. 



XI 

" Sweet one ! I go," — he anxious said. — 
" How swift, how sweet, has evening fled ! 
Once more I ask that pledge so dear : 
To-morrow eve to meet me here." 

" If stars be bright — if woods be still — 
If signals no alarm reveal — 
If nought doth wake the jealous eye, — 
To-morrow night "... was her reply. 



26 ONNALINDA, 

Her hand upon his lips he pressed 

Tenderly, saying : 

" O sweet good-night !" 

They parted. Dim the stars' pale light. 
His heart beat with a strange unrest, 

Murmuring : " Can such bliss be mine ? 

Or is she hidden in dark design ? " 

As through the darkling wood he went 
The phantom Doubt danced in his way ; 
With twit and taunt it seemed to say 

With a goblin's mocking merriment : 

*' If stars be bright ! If woods be still ! 

If, if she won't — if, if she will ! 

See bats at noon, and linnets at dark, 
Then trust a Beauty, O Eben Stark ! 

" Find swan of black, and raven white ; 

Find jealous eye that 's dim of sight ; 
Hear lapdogs sing, and crickets bark. 
Then trust a Beauty, O Eben Stark ! 



ONNALINDA. 27 

" Find circle square, an iceberg hot, 

Twelve jurors with no idiot — 
Go catch a titmouse in the dark. 
Then trust a Beauty, O Eben Stark !" 

XII 

Through shadowy paths of woodland dim 

Regretful Eben went his way ; 

As jocund elves in prank and play 
So frolicked Love and Doubt with him ! 

But thrice ere this had Eben met 
Sweet Onnalinda at the tryst, — 
Did love thrive slow ? He had but kissed 

The rosy points of her fingers yet. 

Dare he not look up from her finger-tips 
To the opulent curve of her crimson lips ? 

Thrice met ; and lovelier than before 
Sparkled her eyes of glistening dew : 
Thrice met ; and more enchanting grew 

A form Apelles might adore. 



28 ONNALINDA. 

And Eben's heart beat wild and fast, 

Thrilled with the touch of her finger-tips 
That tingled still on his quivering lips 

As thro' the crackling wood he passed. 
And vexed was he at a signal sent 
Thwarting his passionate heart's attent. 



(Thrice had they met — the muse hath told — 
But how they met at first by chance, 
A prelude strange to Love's romance, 

The sequel fitter will unfold ; 

And whence came Eben, why, and when, 
Will serve the tale and Eben then.) 



There Onnalinda lingered yet 

Within the starlit nook alone ; 

Ah ! yielding heart — and will it own 
One tender sigh for the man she met ? 

, . "0 peaceful night ! — so calm" — she said — 

" Why is my heart disquieted ? 



ONNALINDA. 29. 

" O happy bird with folded wing, 

Would that thy peace were mine ! " — 



She sighed. 



In such similitudes she tried 
A tender, tremulous croon to sing : 



onnalinda's song. 



Why art thou calm, O peaceful night ! 

While in my heart a wild unrest ? 
And thou, O star ! why beam so bright 
While darli my heart with doubt opprest? 
O star of night ! 
I turn to thee ; 
O calm, calm night, 
Bring calm to me 1 



O balmy breeze ! with breath of spring 
Breathe thy soft murmurs in my ear ; 
And thou, sweet bird ! awake and sing 
That song a maiden loves to hear. 
Sweet bird ! O sing 
My heart to rest, 
Then fold thy wing 
In happy nest ! 



30 ONNALINDA, 

Then from the nook she slow withdrew. 
Along the river her pathway led, 

"Flow on, O river, in peace," — she said- 
" Would that my path were peaceful too : 
Across my way is drawn a bar, — 
Who is this man who comes from far ? " 



XIII 

Wherefore did Onnalinda sigh ? 

Was it o'er Eben's " sweet good-night " ? 

Was it for dusky forest knight — 
Perchance that silent warrior ? — why ? 

Perchance for both, or neither ? — vexed 
Like traveller where his road divides, 
In wavering doubt till he decides, 

Was Onnalinda thus perplexed ? 

(Meek but adroit — ah ! who can tell 
Beauty's intent inscrutable !) 



ONNALINDA. 3I 

XIV 

She neared her home thro' winding ways. 
Far into night the hours had fled. 
The camp-fires smouldered murky red, 

Save one that darted tongues ablaze — 
Tingeing the glen with baleful light, 
And reddening far the shades of night. 



With fagots fresh what sleepless one 

Had roused to flame that quickened fire ? 
Was one awake with jealous ire — 

With keen suspicion restive grown ? 



AVas there a lurking form that stood 
Back in the darkness of the wood ? 

Slumbered her sire. No thought he gave 
Mistrustful of the absent one : 
He knew her wont to wander alone 

And linger beside her mother's grave ; 



32 ONNALINDA. 

Often beneath the starry sky 
Her gentle footsteps thither led, 
And softly over the sainted dead 

Her dirge would blend with breeze's sigh. 

Nay — 't was not he — her slumbering sire, — 

Another's hand that fagot lit 

As sign and symbol that like it 
Flamed jealous love with deathless fire ! 

(Suspicion steals from harassed bed. 
And tiptoe glides with stealthy tread.) 

But Onnalinda, light and fleet, 

Skipt noiseless, bird-like, to her nest, 
Folded her winged thoughts to rest 

With saintlier prayer from lips so sweet. 

Her drooping lashes fell and rose 

Like leaf when breathes soft evening's balm 
They fall ; they rise ; now drooping calm, 

Softly upon her cheek repose. 



ONNALINDA. 33 

XV 
A COURIER. 

^^ Jfailoo?" a voice from jungle cried. 

"Halloo ! " quick Eben Stark replied. 

(We follow Eben's supple feet 
Alert his sentry's call to meet.) 

It sounds again thro' forest dark, 

The sentry's call — and low, subdued, 
And lower yet as thro' the wood 

Nearer the tread of Eben Stark. 

"Halloo?"— 

"Halloo ! " came the reply. 

EBEN. 

Well, Ronald, what 's the stir, and why? 

D 



34 ONNALINDA. 

RONALD. 

A courier from the Frenchman came. 

EBEN. 

A scout from Denonville ? 

RONALD. 

The same. 
He 's at our camp — he waits for you. 

EBEN. 

Confound his dastard "parlez vous ! " 
I 'm done with war. I 'm done with raid. 
I 'm done with sneaking ambuscade — 

I 'm now for — 

RONALD. 

Pretty Indian maid ? 

EBEN. 

Whisht ! Ronald, — you 're a canny Scot, 
£ui winds may blow that whistle not ! 



ONNALINDA. 35 



Ronald, a Scot — young, lithe, and brave, 
With honour's face and eagle's eye ; 
Ready at quip's hilarity. 

But timely resolute, and grave. 

Of cultured brain, yet often he 

His lore would clothe in humour brusque- 
Hiding the grain within the husk — 

Scorning a show of pedantry. 

He and the Captain with a score 
Of knights as chivalrous as they. 
Had listless joined the base foray — 

Ignoble deed they now deplore. 

At morn they view a blooming vale 
Smiling before the hordes of France ; 
At eve a scowling, dark expanse — 

A blackened land of woe and wail : 



36 ONNALINDA, 

War's whirlwind, red with sword and fire, 
Had left but ashes in its path, — 
Hamlets and homes in fiery scath 

Swept flaming into ruin dire. 



(A power more potent still than these 
Drew them aloof from wreck and raid : 
On Eben's heart a wild crusade 

Was waged by Love's perplexities ! — 
Ah ! Love and Doubt — in mingled feud 
Like fretted boughs in stormy wood.) 



Forth went the twain. Thro' forest dark 
Campward they groped their tangled way ; 
In wise debate, or jesting gay, 

Went Ronald Kent and Captain Stark. 

Tho' Ronald oft would chaff and jest, 
A look demure would oft suggest 
A thorn within his manly breast ; 



ONNALINDA. 37 

His tenderness it was his wont 
To often hide with sayings blunt ; 
Tho' sad of heart, yet often he 
Disguised his grief in repartee. 

(This thorn that Ronald would conceal 
The tale shall by and by reveal.) 

EBEN. 

What message from the French ? 

RONALD. 

To tramp, 
So I suspect. But at the camp 
You '11 read it soon. He could but speak 
A Gascon gibberish, or Greek. 
I winked at Donald and at Aleck 
To try him wi' a spurt o' Gaelic. 

" Vail Gaelic agad ? " — Donald said, 
But puzzled Frenchman shook his head. 



38 ONNALINDA. 

EBEN. 

Gallic, not Gaelic, is his talk — 
A Gaul not Gael his parent stock. 
What is he like ? 



RONALD. 

A Frenchman, sooth! 
With two legs only, and a mouth — 
The man for an emergency ! — 
Swift runner and a talker he. 



EBEN. 

Jesting aside, — his urgency 

Betokens ill for you and me. 

But soon base Denonville shall know 

I was his friend — I am his foe. 

With villainous hordes and fire he comes 

To ravage this valley's happy homes — 

Bright blooming vale of the Genesee, 

Lovely as dell in Arcady ! 



ONNALINDA. 39 

He comes with boorish swarms of France, 

Buttoned in brass and ignorance, 

To crush a knightlier, nobler race 

Than gilt-clad Gascons proud and base. 

If ever again I draw my sword 

'T will not be for that vandal horde. 

RONALD. 

I '11 fight for Denonville again 
When earthquakes fight a hurricane ! 



XVI 

They reached an opening in the wood ; 

Above the trees the moon arose ; 

A bright retreat in soft repose. 
Never profaned with raid or feud. 

They halt : To Eben seemed so bright 
The glinting nook with dewy glim ; 
For all things pure and sweet, to him 

Were emblems now of all delight ! 



40 ONNALINDA. 

And moon, or star, or glistening dew, 
Or breath of June, or song of bird, 

(Of Onnalinda emblems true !) 
With rapture all his pulses stirred. 

" Love-haunted nook ! " 

— broke Eben thus — 
*' Sweet as the grot of Tityrus ! 
There 's but one nook on earth like this- 
Bright as the eye of Loveliness ! " 

And Ronald, smiling, shrewdly guessed 
Where lay that covert bright and blest ; 
And humoring Eben's sentiment 
Thus archly spoke as forth they went : 

" Captain ! a lovelier nook I know : 
One day we chased a wearied doe. 
And thro' that nook with jaded bound 
It went, pursued by eager hound. 
'T was by the river, and the doe 
Into it leaped from howling foe." 



ONNALINDA. 4I 

EDEN. 

Ah ! Roaald Kent — there first I found 
What makes my stormy pulses bound ! 
From bovver secluded forth there came 
Who touched my torpid life with flame ! 
Bright as a star o'er night serene 
Smiled Onnalinda — woodland queen ! 

RONALD. 

Eh ? Captain ! you '11 be poet soon ! 

EBEN. 

She '11 make a laureate of a loon ! 

RONALD. 

Then I '11 be laureate, and play 
Your woodland queen sweet roundelay : 
With poet's pibroch sing that she is 
Brighter and sweeter than Chryseis ; 
Sonnets I '11 scribble, spondees whine, 
And stride a butt of Malmsey wine. — 
From loon to laureate ! Oh, the bliss 
Of such a metamorphosis ! — 



42 ONNALIKDA. 

. . . But see ! a light — the camp is near. 

EBEN. 

Cease, then, your jest — no trifling here. 

The crafty Frenchman we must meet 

With craft as subtle and discreet, — 

Whate'er his scheme or message, we 

Must compass it with strategy. 

. . . Haste, Ronald, haste before, and say 

The captain comes — is on his way ; 

Feign breathless haste, with nostril spread, 

As if 't was all for France you sped — 

Deceit is never a sin in war — 

Treat courier as ambassador. 

Go ! make devoir of fealty, 

And, hark, send Donald out to me. 

XVII 

Forth Ronald hurried to the tent ; 

Rushed in as if from jaded bout ; 

Made his devoir ; sent Donald out ; 
Then told of risks he underwent : 



ONNALINDA. 43 

"The woods are rife with skulking foes^ 
Daik forms with tomahawks and bows ; 
Their arrows whizzed, and hatchets spun 
As swift as I the gauntlet run ! 
Thro' forest wild with whoop and howl 
Gaunt wolf and dusky savage prowl ; 
Ambush and snare lurk in the way, — 
But duty calls, and I obey. 
I count it all a bright romance 
And all for glory : ' la belle ' France ! " 



(This courier seemed a man of note 
But polished to a vain excess ; 
An exquisite in form and dress, 

And sleek in manners as his coat — 
Trim coat ! it seemed in form and fit 
Not made for him but he for it. 
As if from first he grew within 
Like pulp in a banana skin ! 
With jewelled hand, and dainty wrist. 
His sleek mustache he 'd twirl and twist ; 



44 ONNALINDA. 

So exquisite his gay cravat, 
His envious chin was wroth witli that> 
And rose in air with high regard 
And pride of the camelopard ! 
Thus lordly he — of lofty port — 
As envoy from barbaric court.) 



" Ho — bien ! " exclaimed the Frenchman. He 

Through fog of Ronald's words could see 

" Glory " and " France." The rest was dim — 

Just vague enough to harry him ; 

Tho' leal and true he deemed these men, 

He feared his pathway home again ! 

For Ronald's feint of terror showed 

Perils abroad the night forbode, — 

As spectres in the twilight dim 

More terrible and ghostly seem. 

So, words the Frenchman knew but ill 

Swelled phantom-like more terrible ! 

Tho' vexed with words of shadowy sense 

He feigned a cool indifference ; 



ONNALINDA. 45 

But through his guise they well could see 
The courier's vexed anxiety. 
He feigned a yawn with elbows spread 
And fingers dovetailed o'er his head, 
Then twirled mustache into a cue, 
Then on his sword-hilt thrummed tattoo; 
He turned, he glanced, he glowered, he — 

Hirk ! 
In Donald comes with Captain Stark. 

" Le capitaine ? " — 

Inquired the Gaul 

With smile and courtesy finical. 

But Eben knew his part to play 
And posed with grace as recherche ; 
To meet the courier as a knight 
Was both politic and polite ; 
So Eben to this son of France 
Bowed with the sweetest complaisance, 
For Eben's manly form and face 
Were equalled only by his grace. 



46 ONNALINDA. 

The courier, looking haught and grave, 
His message now to Eben gave. 

Calm Eben's look did not betray 
The wrath within. 

The order read — 
(Blotted and dashed and boldly spread) : 

" To Captain Stark : 

Make no delay — 
Quick join the ranks. — With horse and foot 
Forward we march on Kawanute. 
Haste ! Vive le Roi ! — Done with his seal. 
Halt at your peril ! 

Denonville." 

His blood leapt reddening, to resent 
Command so curt and insolent ; 
But, prudent, Eben held in check 
A wrath that tinged both face and neck, 
And quick he seized his ready quill — 
Wielding a pen or sword with skill — 



ONNALINDA. 47 

Suppressed his ire within his throat, 
And bold, with heavy hand, he wrote 
Like flourished script of skater's heel, 
And fearless : 

" To MoNS. Denonville, — 
Your threats are but as blustering wind. 

I war no more with Kawanute. 
We join your ranks when we 're too blind 
To see a Frenchman, or to shoot. 
Sharp-shooters we — all men of mark — 
You '11 find us so. 

Yours, 

Eben Stark," 

He folded, sealed, delivered it, 

With well-feigned haste and vigilance, 
As if the glory and pomp of France 

Were all within that message writ ! 
And feigning look of anxious care 
For safety of the messenger. 
He bade the Frenchman thus beware : 



48 ONNALINDA, 

" Lose not the trail thro' forest wide ; 
Wild are the woods — the way is dira — 
Beset with skulking savage grim." 

The courier trembling, terrified, 

At Eben stared, and begged of him 
What Eben gladly gave — a guide. 

(No host e'er granted the behest 
Of titled guest in silk and lace, 
With blander smile and courtlier grace 
Than Eben granted this request !) 

Turning to Scot in highland plaid, 

In guise of deep concern he said : 

" Go, Donald, for his way is dark— 
'T will need your canny vigilance 
To guide the way for * la belle ' France — 

Show him the lines,'' — said Captain Stark, 

And Donald, shrugging, feigned a scowl 
As if he heard the forests howl. 



ONNALINDA. 49 

XVIII 



THE courier's FLIGHT, 

With courier forth was Donald sent. 

The one of Gascon never heard ; 

The other of Gaelic not a word ; 
And thro' the forest-wild they went. 



Thro' jungles dark and wolfish den 
The sturdy Donald onward led, 
As if from bogles grim he sped 

And ghouls from shade Cimmerian. 

They strode thro' bushes and mazy brake 
As though two lives were now at stake ! 

The panting courier felt astray. 

He grasped the Scotchman's plaid behind. 

" Voila ! " he cried, and, pointing, signed 
That rearward was his homeward way. 



50 ONNALINDA. 

" Whoop ! " Donald yelled, and motion made 
Around his head like scalping-knife, 
As if the woods in rear were rife 

With whoop and tomahawk and blade, — 

And " Whoop ! " came answers wild and fast ; 
Their rear was rife with shriek and yell — 
(But Donald knew the voices well !) 

The quaking Frenchman paled aghast ! 

On comes the foe with trampling crash- 
Dim forms are seen thro' lightning's flash. 

Forward the twain thro' jungles went 
(Like swift Cyllenius thro' the glades 
Hustling the suitors to the shades,) 

As if from horrors imminent. 

Behind, the courier panting-pale 
Still clutched the tartan of the Gael ! 

On, on they sped ; thro' dens they fled 
And gruesome haunts with glaring eyes ; 



ONNALINDA. 5X 

And Donald cringed to half his size, 
And glowered as if at bogles dread. 

Lightning revealed his ghastly face 
Turned on the Frenchman in grimace. 

Then on thro' bush and brambly brake, 
In phantom glen and dark ravine 
Startling the wolf and wolverine, 

The screeching owl and hissing snake. 

** Is It a nightmare grim and ghast ? " — 
The courier thought. — " Am I an elf ? 
Or is it I ... am I myself ? " . . . 

And o'er his face one hand he passed 
While the other held in loving gripe 
His one true friend — the tartan stripe ! 

. . . Tho' darkling horrors gloomed before 
He dreaded most the foe behind : 
With whoop and screeching limbs, the wind 

Now joined the diabolic roar ! 



52 ONNALINDA. 

The wind it blew, the. branches flew, 
The forest bowed before the blast ; 
The cloven pine flew headlong past 

And thundering shook the earth below. 

Thus warred the earth and elements 
As thro' the gloom they scurried thence. 



But lo ! keen Donald's peering sight 
Caught glimpse afar of flaming torch, 

(He kenned it was no friendly light !) 
And darted with a sudden lurch 

Into the thicket's gloom of night. 

Sundered from courier, forth he sped, 
Leaving behind a tartan shred. 

Startled, astounded and aghast, 

Clutching a shred of highland plaid, 
The courier glowered in dusky glade, 

And " hola ! ho ! " cried wild and fast ; 



ONNALINDA, 53 

And reckless dashed in frenzied fume 

Into the tangled chaparral, 

With outcry shrieking tragical 
For guide who vanished in the gloom. 

" Show him the lines : " 

That torch showed clear 
The lines the captain meant were near ! 

Homeward went Donald light and gay — 
Shorn of the courier's tugging weight,— 
Bounding o'er log and bush elate. 

Nor dens nor bogles in his way ! 

He left the courier groping on 

Thro' tangled mazes dark and dense — 
In forest's vast circumference 

Thridding the jungles wild — alone ! 

'* Show him the lines ! " was the order sent. 
What lines ? Not French, 't was evident, — 
But Donald knew what Eben meant. 



54 ONNALINDA. 

And Donald now to camp again 

Came blithesome as from highland reel, 
And singing loud, " cha till mi hnlle ! " 

A Gaelic strain with wild refrain : 

" Cha till mi tuille — cha till mi tuille ! " 
Sang Donald ; and a merry score 
Joined chorus : " we return no more ! " 

Fitting reply to Denonville. 

They gather round in jocund group, 
No wrangling rout of sack and port ; 
But sparkling rose the bubbling sport 

As Donald gave his mimic " whoop ! " 

At bogles feigned he glared askance, 
And cringed aghast in grisly awe ; 
Then whooped again, and shrieked ''hola ! 

Then joined the laugh at "la belle " France. 

(A wild strathspey — a highland reel — 
He led the scout of Denonville !) 



ONNALINDA. 5^ 

XIX 

What though without the blast may howl, 
There 's peace within — the pipes are lit ! 
O wand of Peace, of Mirth, of Wit ! — 

What magic in that little bowl ! 

(Now Ronald sung ecstatic lay — 
A psean for the Pipe of Clay ; 
The group betimes their lips they wipe, 
And swell the chorus of The Pipe :) 

SONG OF THE PIPE. 

I 

O Pipe benign ! 

Sweet calm is thine — 
Soothing the murmurs of a world. 

This bowl in air 

Whirls cark and care, 
Cloudward in wreaths of fragrance whirled ! 

CORD. 
With purple, wreathe 

This brow of mine — 
In fragrance breathe, 

O Pipe benign ! 



56 ONNALINDA. 



'Neath azure bays 
"We sing thy praise, 
O Pipe, with Peace cerulean crowned ! 
The carl and king 
United sing 
And rule this realm of Blue Profound ! 

CORO. 

With purple, wreathe 
This brow of mine — 

In fragrance breathe, 
O Pipe benign ! 



The storm is past. The winds are low. 
That Peace of Song Benign doth brood 
Above the murmurs of the wood — 

Lulling the sough of crooning bough. 

XX 

eben's perplexity. 
Now in the camp they sink to rest, 

And soon their weary eyelids close ; 

Save one ... in vain he seeks repose, 
Perplexed with doubts that harry his breast. 



ONNALINDA. 57 

No spectres grim before him rise, 
But a fancied form in Beauty's guise. 

The moonlight glimmering on the tent 
Made fretted meshes through the trees — 
Flitting and flirting with the breeze 

In a fantastic tournament ; 

And Eben watched tlie shadowy dance : 

" The light and shade are Love and Doubt — 
They shift and shuffle in giddy bout, — 

phantom Love — thou spirit of Chance ! " 

(Complained he thus in harassed mood. 
Of Love and Love's vicissitude.) 

" * If stars be bright — if woods be still — 

1 will/ she said . . . ' if ! ' — if, she will. 
O fickle IF ! — but half a breath, 

Yet 't is of Love the shibboleth ! " 

So Eben mused. Sagacious he, 
But young in Love's philosophy ; 



53 ONNALINDA. 

For in the creed of Love 't is shown 
That Doubt and Jealousy are one. 



By Eben's side wise Ronald lay 

In dreamless sleep oblivious, 

Till sudden, as from incubus, 
A thrust awoke him. 

" Ronald ! say, 
What do you know of pearls and leaves ? '* 

As miser wakes, beset with thieves, 
Startled he 'woke in blank amaze — 
Staring with a bewildered gaze. 

(Deeming his words not understood, 
Eben, with elbow thrust, renewed :) 

" Ronald ! what means the coronet 
When pearls above the leaves are set ? " 

Ronald now deeming Eben's brain 



ONNALINDA. 59 

Clouded with dreams and fancies vain, 
Answered as one who by degrees 
Would break a dreamer's fantasies : 

" The answer, Captain, I could tell 
If question were more tangible ; 
If weighty as your elbow thrust 
'T would crush a boulder into dust ! " 

EBEN. 

Come ! learned Ronald, for you know, 
Give answer — jollity forego. 

RONALD. 

Jolly ! — then he with fig-leaf bib 
Was jolly with a broken rib ! 
But, serious : with a mystic guess 
I '11 answer like the Pythoness : 
You wandered in your dreamy trance 
Thro' dazzling halls of gay romance ; 
With pomp and pageant, wit and wine, 
Feasted with lords and ladies fine ; 



6o ONNALINDA. 

In dreams you sate on fancy's throne 
Claiming an earldom as your own — 
And donned the coronet of earl * 
Emblazoned bright with leaf and pearl. 

EBEN. 

'T was not a trance. 

RONALD. 

Perhaps romance ? 

EBEN. 

No lord, no knight — 

RONALD. 

Nor ladies bright ? 
No ducal halls with Beauty dight ? 

EBEN. 

No castle, duke, nor coronet — 

* An earl's coronet is garnished with pearls above straw- 
berry leaves ; that of a marquis, with pearls between the 
leaves ; that of a viscount, with pearls only. 



ONNALINDA. 6l 

RONALD. 

No moonlit nook — nor soft regret ? 
No love ? oh, no ! nor sv/eet brunette ! 

EBEN. 

Ah ! Ronald, you have dreamt of her — 
Or are you seer and sorcerer ? 

RONALD. 

Where'er we fly — o'er hill or glen — 
To the eyrie, Love, we turn again ! 
Like dazzling glance from wing of dove 
Is bright Romance to Life and Love ! 

EBEN. 

Ecstatic Ronald ! now I know 
A barb hath pierced your bosom too, — 
"Who IS she?" — as of old 't was said 
When mischief thro' the kingdom sped. 

Fling by restraint, and banish fear, 
Whate'er the tale, 't is sacred here. 



62 ONNALl^'DA. 

Did I not thus a trust impart 

Though sacred sealed within my heart ? 

Did I not tell of her who came 

And touched my stoic heart with flame ? — 

Bright Onnalinda — sweetest name ! — 

. Kind Heaven ! keep watch and ward above 
her, 
And waft her dreams of love — 

RONALD. 

— and lm>er > 

EBEN. 

Now, while the camp is deaf and dumb, — 
Heedless of song or story, — come ! 
Ronald, the tale ! 

RONALD. 

Would that to me 
Were given a tale of chivalry ! 
But since (best friend !) you ask, I '11 give 
My life in briefest narrative, 
And only here and there select 
The mile-stones of the retrospect. 



ONNALINDA. 63- 

The epochs in our lives are three ; 

And here we grope in rifts between 

The IS . . . the was . . . the might have been. 
From gleaming hills of youth we see 
The glorious lands of Is to Be. 

In twilight's vale of is we pause 

To mourn the fading light of was. 
Then midnight glooms both hill and glen, 
Adieu ! — we sigh — It Might Have Been ! 

You see me gay ; you hear me jest, 
And join the laugh with sturdy zest. 
^^ Happy?" — Have you so soon forgot 
" The winds may blow that whistle not ! " 

Captain ! I feel that when we stray 

From Heaven's path, and grope our way — 

When gloom and fear make us repent — 

The light of Mirth is to us sent. 

The godless caitiff never laughs 

Save when the blatant bowl he quaffs. 

. . . But, to my tale : — 



64 ONNALINDA. 

XXI 

Ronald's tale. 

My story brief : 
'T is years since an Algonquin chief 
With half his tribe of warriors red, 
In war's dread trappings habited, 
Rushed on our hamlet. Child was I 
Of scarce ten years, and yet the cry — 
The war-whoop blent with wail of grief 
Brought by that red Algonquin chief — 
Sounds in the ear of memory. 
Never can I forget the look 
My mother gave me when he took 
My hand from hers ! — that agony 

That blanched her dear sweet face to snow 
Her outstretched arms' beseeching plea, 

Her livid lips, — forget ? ah, no, 

On steeds so fleet, away ! away 
They hurried us in wild array : 



ONNALINDA. 6^ 

Over the hills and forest dales 

They hurried us on winding trails, 

. , . Once from a hill I turned my eyes 

And saw the whirling smoke arise — 

Loved hamlet ! . . . Yet one gleam of hope — 

I saw upon the distant slope 

One little cottage of the group ; 

It stood apart — untouched by flame, 

I caught my mother's eye ; there came 

Over her pale dear face a smile 

As if " 't is ours ! " to say to me, 
To cheer me, tho' her heart the while 

Was breaking in its agony. 
. . . That was the last, last beam of joy 
From those sad eyes on me — her boy. 

(Here Ronald paused and turned away — 
In manly tears he silent lay. 
And Eben, brave but tender bred, 
Laid gentle palm on Ronald's head. 
... A sob . . . and Ronald rose, and went, 
Followed by Eben, out the tent. 

F 



66 ONNALINDA. 

There sat the comrades, eye-bedewed, — 

O brave and loving brotherhood ! 

. . , And Ronald now his tale renewed :) 

Onward we sped o'er hill and dale. 
Through brush and bog and forest trail, 
An Indian's arm around me flung, 
And to that dusky arm I clung. 
My mother hung, like drooping leaf. 
On the proud arm of Indian chief. 
It was a blest but sad relief 
To me, her little boy, to see 
He held her gently, tenderly. 

As on we sped thro' wood and glade. 
Sudden from out an ambuscade 
A hostile tribe upon us burst 
With fiendish whoop and yell accurst ! 
Confusion dread ! Quick as a thought 
We whirled like leaves in tempest caught. 
I only saw — once glancing round — 
My mother sinking to the ground. 



ON N. '.LINDA 67' 

Straight at the Algonquin chief there sped 
A mightier chief, of look renowned, — 
My mother sank. The Algonquin fled. 
Again my mother a captive led ! 
But even yet one little ray 

Of childish hope — so slight, but sweet — 
That somehow, somewhere, in some way, 

The mother and her boy would meet : 
That mighty chief's chivalric grace 
Bespoke a hero of his race. 
Methought his look a heart revealed — 
Sweet hope ! he would the captive shield. 



Onward ! and onward still we pressed. 

The gloom of night came darkly down. 
Then in a valley to the west 

We struck their camp — an Indian town. 
The people — lads and maids — came out 

To greet their little pale-face guest ; 
They knew not how their merry shout 

Sank doleful in my little breast. 



68 ONNALINDA. 

" O mother ! mother ! " — thus cried I — 
What could I do but stand and cry? 

That long dark night I sobbing lay 

Calling for her — so far away ! 

Trembling, I sobbed in low lament, 

Lying within the Algonquin's tent. 

But one, one solace to my grief, 

The little daughter of the chief 

Seemed touched with pity, for I knew 

When I was crying she cried too ! 

. . . Thus the long night dragged slowly by- 

O night of wailing misery ! 

When morning shone — 

(But why prolong 
This tale of wretchedness and wrong ?) 

The days, and oh ! the nights, dragged by. 

The weeks— the months — a captive still ! 
Spring came, but neither sunny sky 

Nor song of bird awoke one thrill. 



O^NALINDA 69 

One morn the chief, in gayer mood, 
Bade them two ponies bring, and he, 
With merry Indian girl and me. 

Went riding through the echoing wood. 

Thus she and I together rode, 

He leading through the solitude. 

Afar we ranged on woodland trail 

Thro' sunny glade and scented dale. 

The chief he laughed well-pleased to see 

That oft I joined with gayety 

The gladsome little maiden's glee ! 

And on we rode till from a height, 

Behold ! there loomed upon our sight 

A little cottage far away. 

Bright-gleaming in the sunny day. 

As a fond father joyful greets 

His long-lost wanderer at his door. 

Then shrinks appalled — his son he meets 
Whose brain, so bright in days of yore, 
Is wrapt in darkness evermore, — 

Thus sudden beamed that cottage bright . . , 

As sudden wrapt in pall of night, — 



7© ONNALINDA. 

The LIGHT of Home — ah ! where was she ? 

dark and dreary vacancy ! 

(The little maiden wondered why 
So sudden mute and sad was I ; 
How could she know the tears that fell 
Told sadder tale than lips could tell I) 

No life, no sound — and all around 
A hamlet's ashes strewed the ground. 
We entered ; and so strange the sound 

1 turned, and stood without the door — 
I durst not tread that silent floor ! 

. . . Some dusty books they brought me out 
That on the floor were strewn about — 
Books that I 'd lay on mother's knee 
And read to her, and she to me. 

Again we mounted, and away 

Homeward we rode — I called it home ! — 
We reached it as the weary day 

Sank in the twilight's deepening gloom. 



ONNALINDA. 71 

And the long days drew slowly by — 
The days to seasons ; these to years ! 

And then with rising dignity 

Came manhood's heart — its hopes and fears. 

(. . . Captain ! you smile, — ) yes, as I grew 

She grew — a charming maiden too. 

From little dusky Indian bud 

Blossomed a sweet rose of the wood — 

Morn's dewy rose of womanhood ! 

A chieftain's daughter — proud was she 
To all the tribe, but smiled on me ! 

I taught her all our books could teach — 
Bright pupil she ! — she learned so well 

She knew the sweetest part of speech 
And read my heart ere she could spell ! 

And as she grew in years and lore 

I taught her what the sages writ ; 
She learned all that and something more, 

Then she taught me what they omit ! 



12 ONNALINDA. 

And much that never was told in print 
Shone from her dark eye's tender glint ! 

But now a threatening cloud arose, 
That, ever-widening, darker grew 
And 'tween us and the sunny blue 

Of happy skies would interpose ; 
Upon us darkly frowned askant 
The eye of Envy vigilant : 

A warrior, brave and lithe and young, 
Reserved and sly — his words but brief ; 

His belt with many a trophy hung 
Won him the favor of the chief. 

As wise besieger first would seize 

The bastioned heights above the town. 

Then turn from these his batteries 
And send his iron summons down ; 

So he first won the chief, and thus 

From haughty heights looked down on us. 



ONNALTNDA. 73 

One morn she trembling came to me ; 

Her pallid cheeks with tears were wet ; 
I read our fate ! — 't was misery . . , 

Our loves — our lives ! — with woes beset. 
She sobbing wailed : 

" It cannot be . . . 

O would that we had never met ! " 

She told me then, in hurried breath, 

Of midnight plot that warrior planned — 

He spoke of snares, but hinted death ! — 
Her sire, too, heeding his demand. 

To stay was death. To part was — what ? 

For one 't was life — for both 't was woe ! 
In tears the aid of Heaven we sought — 

Our destiny we yearned to know. 
But part we must . . . 

That day went by. 

In evening's gloom again we met 
In wonted covert silently, 

While agony our souls beset. 



74 ONNALINDA. 

clinging anguish of that love 

That ends for aye in one last kiss ! . . . 
In prayer she gazed to Heaven above 
And, trembling like a wounded dove, 

" Adieu ! " — she wailed . . . then gave me this. 

(And Ronald from his bosom drew 
A little disk that argent shone. 
He sat in silence. He alone 

Its hidden spring and meaning knew. 

A tear to Eben clear revealed 

'T was shrine in sacred silence sealed. 

— With vulgar quest we will not pry 

Into its sacred privacy. 

. . . Then Ronald, rising as he spoke, 

With hurried words the silence broke :) 

But, Captain, see ! the moon is high, 

'T is drawing late . , . "My life since then?" 
I 've seen two hemispheres of men t 

1 've seen the blue Italian sky ; 



ONNALINDA. 75 

r ve sailed the murky Indian seas, 
And roamed the far antipodes ; 
Auld Scotia have I lingered in — 
Rapt with the glories of Killin ! 
But all, aye, all from memory fade 
Save her — the sweet Algonquin maid ! 
. . . So, Captain ! all is vanity — 

My life 's a shot athwart the dark ! — 
And, save a sad-sweet memory, 

I 've just one friend . . . you — Eben Stark ! 



(He ceased. 

Into the slumbering tent 
Eben and Ronald silent went. 
Ronald to sink in slumber deep, 
Eben to dream in fitful sleep.) 



76 ONNALINDA. 

XXII 

How fares the messenger of France ? 
Bewildered, torn, and sore beset — 
Thridding the maze of jungles yet— 

He gropes thro* forest's dark expanse. 



No torch that canny Donald kenned 
Showed to the Frenchman foe or friend ! 



And princess " Onnalinda sweet " ? 

She slumbers in her far retreat. 

But wake her not tho' omens rise 

To threat with gloom love's azure skies ; 

Startle her not ! — that presage dun 

May flee before the morning sun. 



O'er misty vale and purple height 
Dark are the brooding wings of night. 



ONNALINDA. 77 

XXIII 

" If stars be bright— if woods be still," 

Repeated Eben as he 'woke. 

He gazed abroad. The morning broke 
With presage vague across the hill ; 

And in the west a menace dark 
Of clouds that gloomed the canopy : 



** Depart, O gloom ! from earth and sky 
We meet to-night ! " — said Eben Stark. 



Uprose that cloud so dark and dank. 
And as it rose his ardour sank. 



XXIV 

The day drew on — the sunless day — 
And slowly verged to its decline ; 
But low in the west an azure line 

'Twixt cloud and earth stretched far away. 



78 ONNALINDA. 

And Eben gazed with watchful eye : 

Behold ! bright Hope peered thro' the clitt ; 
And wider grew the azure rift, 

And brighter Eben's ecstacy ! 
Auspicious promise ! still it grew 
A widening rift of gold and blue. 

Then sudden sunset bursting forth, 
Blazed all the hill-tops of the West, 
And, glancing, touched each mountain crest, 

And smiled across the happy earth, 
Till Twilight came in mystic hue 
And over the earth her mantle threw. 

" If stars be bright ! " . . . He would repeat 
The words of " Onnalinda sweet." 



Twilight ! and all the woods are still. 

The blinking stars came, one by one. 

Eben thro' woodlands went alone, 
As once, with finger-tips a-thrill ! 



ONNALINDA. 79 

And onward, onward to the tryst ! 

Lighter his feet with heart elate. 

The stars are bright — the winds abate — 
The skies of Hope are amethyst I 

(While to the nook he wends his way 

We stand in shadow of the tent, 
And list to what his comrades say 

Of him who thro' the darkness went ; 
For now 't is much their wont to prate 
Of Eben's rambles long and late ! 
We may o'erhear, 'tween song and jest, 
From comrades gay who know him best, 
Of deed or tale that tells the man 
Better than panegyric can.) 

Listen ! his comrades in the camp 

Now jest of walks in forest dark. 
They know not love is a brighter lamp 

Than moon or star to Eben Stark ! 
None know but Ronald Kent, and he. 
Keeps to himself the mystery. 



8o ONNALINDA. 

And thus of Eben they joke and prate- 
One said: " He 's timid." One: " He 's daft " ; 

And one (a Scot) : " He 's coy and blate " ; 
And one : " He 's love-sick ! " And they 
laughed, 

Till Ronald, vexed with jest and joke, 

Turned sharply on them, and he spoke : 

** Fools ! for ye know not what 3'e say. 
One glance of his in battle-fray 
Will keener pierce by simple threats 
Than all your swords and bayonets ! 
* Thnid? ' say tender. Had ye known 
What I have seen, when he alone 
(Of all a shrieking multitude) 
'Twixt Innocence and Horror stood, — 
Varlets ! ye had not jested so." 

(And Ronald's comrades saw that he 
Was vexed with their hilarity.) 

"Pardon," — they said — "but he 's away, 
And now (th* old saw) 'the kittens play.' 



OXNALINDA, 8l 

Tell us the tale. We love to hear 
The very name we hold so dear. 
Til ere 's not a man in all our band 
Eut would 'twixt Death and Eben stand ! 
Tell us the tale." 

And Ronald Kent 
Stroked his dark beard and smiled assent. 

(We peer thro' opening in the tent — 
See ! sparkling eyes of merriment 
As if on merry mischief bent ! — 
Some festive quip his comrades plan 
As Ronald now his tale began :) 



u > 



T was off the coast of — " 

" Ho ! hold ! hold ! "— 
On him they broke — 

" That dish is cold " — 
" That tale is old as Babylon ! " — 
" The yarn that Eve for Adam spun ! " — 
** 'T is Noah's cruise by Sophocles ! " — 
" Auld ballats — breeks threadbare at knees ! ' 

G 



(< n 



82 ONNALINDA. 

And straightway all began to roar 
Stale ballads both of sea and shore, 
Drawlmg their *'ands " and " thes " and "ers" 
To mimic their great-grandmothers : 

"Turn around, turn 'round you false-hearted 
knight ..." 

"A-n-d she was a faire ladye ..." 
T was off the coast of ... " " My grand- 
father ..." 

"A-sailin' off Brittanee ..." 
The knight he wooed the king's daughter ..." 
And the captain /le was a jolly skipper ..." 
"A-n-d the seventh you shall be, be, be . . ." 

A dozen ballads bawled at once, 

And ceasing but as breath would fail ! 
Then Ronald, frowning, made response : 
" Comrades ! now hear me for the nonce — 
I tell no ballad coarse and stale ; 
'T is new as true my simple tale." 

Their sparkling mirth they ceased anon, 
And their eyes grew moist as the tale went on : 



1 



ONNALINDA. 83 

XXV 

THE BALLAD OF THE STRANGER. 

I 

'Twas off the coast of Scarboro' 

In sixteen eighty-three ; 
An April night fell lowering 

Upon an angry sea. 
And on the heights above the town 
Was many a watcher gazing down, 
And murmuring with a shrug and frown : 

"A woeful night 't will be ! " 

2 
The wind across the surges 

Came howling to the land ; 
In foaming wrath the breakers 

Came bounding on the strand ; 
When with a voice from turret high 
Sounded aloud that startled cry : 
"A wreck ! a wreck ! — Shoremen ahoy ! 

She 's plunging for the land ! " 



84 ONNALINDA. 

3 

Down from the heights went skurrying 

The wreckers to the shore, 
And women wild, who seaward smiled 

Hopeful an hour before ! 
The ship — Great God ! — in flames her prow ! — 
The flames are bursting from her bow ! 
She speeds full sail ! — 

Thank Heaven the gale 

Is blowing to the shore ! 



4 

Red are the waves before her — 

Each crest a flaming brand ! 
With tongues of wrath and fiery breath 

She leaps toward the strand. 
"Ahoy ! ahoy ' " — the trumpet rings — 
See ! on the hidden reef she springs ! 
To rock she clings, — 

On rock she swings 

Her larboard to the land. 



ONNALINDA. 85 

5 

A thousand shrieks of terror 

Arise from ship and shore ! 
" Launch ! launch the boats ! " — the trumpet notes 

Blare out above the roar. 
But every boat, from beach or deck, 
Like shells the breakers crush and wreck. 
Stranded she stood . . . 

In fire and flood . . . 

But a hundred yards from shore. 



6 

Down to the beach a stranger 

Stept calmly thro' the crowd ; 
He doffed his cloak, and up he spoke 

With startling voice and loud : 
" Come on with me, the bravest three ! . 

(In yawl they plunged into the sea.) 
" Give me the rope ! — 

Cowards are we, 

To cringe at watery shroud ? " 



86 ONNALINDA, 

7 

Athwart the breakers plunging 

Went gallant men and yawl ; 
A rope they bore, the coil on shore 

Trailed out with snaky crawl. 
See ! heavens ! they sink ! — 

A mountain wave 
Buries them deep in yawning grave ! 
A shriek ! a wail from women pale 

The bravest souls appall. 

8 

Up ! see ! — the dauntless heroes 

Upon the surges rise ! 
" Praise God ! " a shout from ship and shore 

Breaks upward to the skies. 
" Courage ! " — peals out that stranger's shout,- 
He strikes the wreck . . . 

He leaps on deck . . 
His rope ties fast to mizzen mast, 

And, ^^Down the rope .' " he cries. 



ONNALINDA. 87 

9 

Swift, one by one, like pigeons 

From startled cote, they pour — 
They glide on rope through breakers 

Hand over hand to shore . . . 
The flames ! the flames ! 

With hiss and gnash 
Sternward their tongues of fire they flash, 
And on the flames the surges dash 

With seething shriek and roar ! 



10 
The last man 's o'er the taffrail — 

Alone the stranger . . . No ! 
Horrors ! — up from the hatchway 

A woman from below ! — 
Clasping her child, in terror wild 
Shrieking : 

" O God ! my child ! my child ! " 
To the stranger's breast her babe she prest 

In agony of woe. 



ONNALINDA. 
II 

Tho' singed with fire that hero 

To his breast the babe he bound ; 
Then to the sea leapt mother and he — 

She clasping him around. 
Now on the rope, hand over hand, 
Thro' breakers plunging for the strand- 
" Hold to the rope ! it burns ! " — 
From land 
Rings out the trumpet-sound. 



A shuddering cry uprises 

From thousands on the lee — 

The rope it parts, and flaming darts 
And hisses in the sea ! 

" Hold to the rope ! " 

Alas ! a wave 

O'erwhelms him deep — that hero brave ! 

Down, down, they sink into that grave — 
The mother, babe, and he. 



ONNALINDA. 89 

There is a sudden silence 

Hushes the land in awe, 
As over the sands an hundred hands 

That willing rope they draw. . . . 
" Praise God, the Lord ! " 

Bursts sudden cry 
From thousand voices raised on high. . . . 
See ! on the land, above the strand. 
Silent and pale they lie ! 



14 

In fixed grasp that hero 

The rope still firmly holds ! 
And firm his teeth with clench of death 

That mother's sleeve enfolds ! 
Oh, fearful sight ! — more ghastly seem 
Those faces in the lurid gleam. . . . 
But — hark ! he speaks ! 

He stirs ! he wakes ! 
He starts as from a dream ! 



90 ONNALINDA. 

And the mother's lips are quivering 
As if to speak . , . and hark ! 

She calls her child , . . she gazes wild 
Toward the burning barque. 

The stranger smiled ; unbound his breast . 

The babe lay smiling in its nest ! 

The mother shrieked in rapture wild : 

" My child ! my child !— 

Thank God! my child!" 



16 

The multitude came surging, 

And round that stranger prest, — 

With prayer and cry that reached the sky 
That hero brave they blest. 

But not a word the stranger spoke . . . 

He calmly smiled, — 

He donned his cloak, 

And, bowing, vanished in the dark. 

" Who was the hero ? " , . . Eben Stark ! 



ONNALINDA, 91 



And Ronald ceased. 

The camp was still. 
His comrades mute a moment stood, 
Their eyelids quivering and bedewed 
With tenderness they would conceal, — 
A moment mute : — 

Uprose a shout 
That 'woke the woodlands round about 
And echoed in the forests dark : 
" God bless the hero — Captain Stark ! " 

(Would that to Onnalinda sweet 
Ronald his ballad could repeat, 
And her esteem and love enlist 
For Eben, ere he greets the tryst !) 

'T is such a deed reveals the man 
More than all panegyric can. 
Let simple story-song like this 
Be Eben's apotheosis. 



92 ONNALINDA. 

(Their stories thus in tent they tell 
Of hero whom they love so well, — 
But haste we hence. We leave the tent 
And ballads all to Ronald Kent — 
We follow wh'ther Eben went.) 



XXVI 

The night drew on. The moon arose 

As Eben reached the nook. 

No sound 

Disturbed the dreamy calm profound . . . 
Too calm — too still, the deep repose ! 

" She comes not . . . Did she smile on me?" 

(He muttered in soliloquy,) 
"Ah ! now methinks that 'neath her smile 
Lurked hidden witchery and wile ! 
Was sorcery, the serpent, hid 
Beneath her soft eye's fringed lid ? 
No, no ! that face so sweet ! so fair ! 
There could be no illusion there. 



ONNALINDA. 

And yet . . . No, no ! — be still, O heart ! 
No guile was there — no sorcerer's art. 
What did she say . . . ' if so and so — 
And, ' if there wake no jealous eye ' . . , 
Ah ! that 's the wherefore and the why ! — 
She loves him . . . 

That mute warrior ? , . . 

No ! 
And yet . . . O cursed doubt ! — I go." 

He rose. Distrustful and distraught 
His homeward path he, frowning, sought. 

" Fled ! Fled, my Starlight !— Cold and dark 
Are heaven and earth ! " 

Said Eben Stark. 

Halting, he mused . . . then on his track 
He turned, and slowly wandered back. 

He listened . . . then, with sudden thought, 
Her pathway to the nook he sought. 



93 



94 ONNALINDA. 

His way along the river led — 

Her pathway at last eve's adieu — 

" O peaceful river ! " sad he said — 

" Would that my path were peaceful too ! " 

Then at a thicket's marge he stayed 
And, peering stilly through, he met 

A sudden gleam of moonlit glade — 

Bright knoll, like gem in dew-drops set. 

And lo ! a form was kneeling there 

In saintly attitude of prayer ; 

Her palms together devoutly prest 

Were raised in supplication blest ; 

Her pale sweet face to Heaven above 

Seraphic beamed with heavenly love. 

There — there her sainted mother slept, 
And there sad Onnalinda wept. 

Upon her cheek in moonlight clear 
Glistened a lonely trembling tear ; 



ONNALINDA, 95 

While, that beloved name to bless, 
Her sweet lips breathed in tenderness : 

" Mother, O mother ! on thy breast 
Thy wearied child again would rest — 
Thy loving arms around me prest. 

Mother, O mother ! dark my way 
When from thy grave I lonely stray ; 
In tears I kneel by thee and pray. 

Mother, O mother ! join to-night 

Thy prayer with mine for Heavenly light- — 

Oh, dark, so dark ! my path to-night." 



Bending she kissed each dewy blade 
That o'er the grave in pity bent . . . 

She rose, and from the sacred glade 
Along the pathway slowly went. 

Erewhile had Eben thence withdrawn- 
Too sad that face to gaze upon : 
He 'd not profane with curious eye 
That hallowed scene of sanctity. 



95 ONNALINDA. 



XXVII 



IN THE NOOK. 



Within the nook once more they meet. 

As one would meet a lovely saint 
■ Whose very smile held a restraint, 
Eben met Onnalinda sweet. 
... A touch of palms . . . 

A clasp of hands . . . 
A thrill that reached his finger-tips 
And drew her hand up to his lips, 

And drew her closelier where he stands. 



Then Eben sat. Apart she stood. 
Her white arm round a moonlit tree 
Glistened with jewelled brilliancy. 

A vision of beatitude, 

Revealed in beauteous symmetry 

' Twixt Eben and the moon she stood. 



ONNALINDA. 97 

And was it thus by maiden's art 
The moonlight fell upon his face 

While 'gainst that light she stood apart, 
Outlined, a rounded form of grace ? 

(A maiden's art ? Ah ! who can tell, — 
An art incomprehensible !) 



No more about the bush he beat — 

No more of questions vague and dim- 
He knew as vague she 'd answer him, 

Bright Onnalinda — shrev/d as sweet ! — 
That silent brave — that sphinx obscure — 
In silence Eben must endure. 

Thwarted, he knew his quest were vain ; 

And eager now that she renew 

The tale that ceased when whistle blew, 
He turned to happier themes again — 

Asking of home beyond the sea, 

Of kindred and of ancestry. 



98 ONNALINDA. 

With searching eye she long had scanned 

Each feature of his noble face ; 

And pleased, she found not even a trace 
Of artifice in treason planned. 

That face of calm sincerity 
Was pledge secure. 

She could but feel 
That now to him she might reveal 

The past — to him a mystery. 

Then gracefully she closer drew 
Her dress around her ankles trim, 

And featly through the silvery dew 
Near Eben came and sat by him. 

She held, and tenderly caressed, 
A wild rose sweet and fresh as dew, 
(Dear as the glade wherein it grew !) 

And oft to it her lips she pressed 
While sweetly, softly tremulous, 
She told her tale to Eben thus : 



ONNALINDA. 99 

XXVIII 

onnalinda's disclosure. 

You ask of me — she coyly said — 
My life's strange story ; to renew 
The tale that ceased when signal blew, — 

(Pleased do we go where kindly led!) 



You wondered when last night I said 

The mother of the woodland girl 

Was daughter of a Scottish earl ! 

Yes, — lordly castle broad and high 

Was home of her nativity. 

Around her, hedge-rows carolled sweet, 

And heather blossomed 'neath her feet ; 

That lovely lake of azure sheen, 

Bound with that vale's expanse of green. 

Was brighter than this Genesee 

Hemmed with its emerald livery. 

— Each eve she heard, as twilight fell, 

The sound afar of pibroch swell, 



lOO ONNALINl>A. 

And down the Dochart's winding stream 
Echo, and die into a dream. 
Of such my mother oft would tell— 
Of sounds and scenes she loved so well, 
. , . But over that home a shadow fell : 

One morn came love. A youth he came, 

Of manly port and fair to see. 
Unknown to fame ; tho' fair his name 

He boasted not of ancestry. 
My mother, then a winsome girl, 

In wisdom well as beauty grew : 
She deemed (tho' daughter of an earl) 

The smile of worth the guerdon true. 
Not so her sire. His coronet 

He valued more than brain or heart — 
A penny more than violet. 

His coat of arms the end of art : 

With gules upon an argent field ; 
An azure fesse athwart the shield ; 
A chevron or, enraftered, fret 
With purple-tinctured barrulet ; 
On dexter chief a blazoned spur, 
An ermine tuft on sinister. 



ONNALINDA. lOt 

Such was his coat of arms, and he 
Adored the gairish vanity. 

One eve a groom, officious, told 
Of what his lurking eye espied : 

" She walked clandestine in the v/old — 
A simple yeoman by her side." 

Up to his brows in reddening ire 
Arose the feudal blood of sire. 
His daughter called ... 

"And can it be — 
A wolf among the bleating flocks ! 
Do pheasants covey with the fox ? " 
— With taunting trope demanded he. 

Trembling she shrank before his rage 
Like fluttering bird new-caught in cage. 
She saw deep in his darkling eye 
A storm to gloom her destiny. 



1C2 ONNALINDA. 

(But love — true love, when storms assail, 
Is like the birdling in the gale : 
It closer, warmer, folds its wings, 
And to the limb it firmer clings.) 

The old, old story-song again ! 

'T would pall in telling, and 't were vain. 

Ah ! could I tell in her sweet way 

My mother's plaint o'er vanished years, 
Upon your cheek would tremble tears 

Like dew-drops on the quivering spray ; 
But brief I '11 tell . . . 

(As one would look 
But for italics in a book :) 

That yoeman wooed . . . 

He won . . . 

They wed . . . 
Her largess, rank, she forfeited . . . 
Her sire he stormed in wrath . . . 

They fled. . . 



ONNALTNDA. IO3 

Unpitying sire ! Nor tear, nor prayer, 
Could touch one tender feeling there. 
Her tears he spurned, — 

He deemed her dead ! . . . 
To Love she turned — 

And sought their bread ! 

Into the wide, wide world they went. 

They spoke of new worlds in the west — 
True love in deserts is content — 

And thither they would turn their quest. 

One morn, before the ship would sail, 
A longing came to see once more 
That home, still fondly loved, before 

She bade it evermore farewell. 

That morn of June, by hedge-rows sweet 
She went. 

There, at the postern gate 

Sat her old nurse. 

In tears they met — 

The poor old nurse, disconsolate. 



104 ONNALINDA. 

Clasped her in arms with kisses, tears — 
The welling fount of happier years ; 
For, from a nursling sweet, she grew 
The pet of nurse and household too. 

Along the garden-walk they went ; 

The rose and orchis redolent ; 

But changed, alas ! each flower and scent ; 

And even the bees now seemed to drone 

A dolorous moan in monotone. . . . 

Ah ! home beloved ! so dear, so fair, 

And she in tears — the rightful heir 

A stranger and intruder there ! 

— The threshold crossed. . . 

Ev'n creak of door 
Thrilled her with wonted sounds of yore ! 
A moment pale she stood, and gazed. 
That scene beloved her vision dazed. 
Her home no more ! — That stately hall 
Of marbled floor and pictured wall — 
That stairway broad and winding high — 
Symbol of grace and majesty ! 



ONNALIXDA. I05 

With strange and vacant look she smiled — 

Thinking of cot in western wild : 

Her sofa a bench ; her chair a chest ; 

Her home a hovel in the west, 

But Love the ever-abiding guest ! 

O gilded home — without a heart — 

With all the painter's, sculptor's art ! 

Here, niche-enshrined, a saintly statue 

Gazes intently up or at you ; 

There satyrs grim and wild bacchant 

Ogle a sphinx or grififin gaunt ; 

Here Aphrodite smiles at Pan 

But weds the grisly Artisan ; 

There naiads mourn o'er funeral pile 

And lo ! they see Narcissus smile ; 

Cassandra here, in wailings low. 

Foretells great Agamemnon's woe. 

"... Oh ! what are these ! — A show." 

She sighed, 
Repeating, up the stairway wide : 
" Oh ! what are these, with love unblest ? — 
Give me the hovel in the west ! " 



Io6 ONNALINDA. 

Above the porch one little room 
Sweet with the scent of heather-bloom ; 
'Twas hers — in happier days bestowed : 
Books, music, pictures, — loved abode ! 
She entered. 

Kneeling by her chair, 
Her grief broke forth in tears and prayer. 

Then she arose. 

Such books as hold 
The germs of thought — the gems of lore, 
(To her a precious, dainty store !) 

She culled, — from out the dross the gold. 

She used to say : 

" One book, though small. 
Of the great songs 't will hold them all, — 
One little page will hold in it 
All the grand thoughts each scribe hath writ ? " 

' — These pearls of prose, and poet's lay 
She gave the nurse to bear away ; 



OMNALINDA. 107 

Then wept . . . departing from that door, 
To cross its threshold nevermore ! 



Down the lone stairway to the door 
She glided, trembling like a bird. 
She paused. . . . 

Was it a voice she heard ? 

She turned across the silent floor 
And softly entered where he sate, 
The lonely lord of the estate. 

Ah ! little did he think that she 
Would soon be as a buried one 

To him forevermore, and he 
In silence tread his halls alone ! 

Through sobs my mother could not speak ; 
She silent bent, and kissed his cheek ; 
Then turned away . . . 

To him as dead . ^ . 
"Farewell— beloved home !" — she said. 



Io8 ONNALINDA. 

Then to the gate she slow withdrew 
Where waited he — the yeoman true. 

The dear old nurse — whose loving care 
Now ends in grief — stood waiting there, 
Lamenting, moaning in despair. 
Like mother of him who waits his doom 
And sees the fearful moment come. 
Around her child her arms she flings — 
She sobs and kisses, cries and clings, 
Till sinking ere the parting knell, 
Nor speaks nor hears a last farewell ! 
So sank th' old nurse. ... 

A last adieu 
My mother kissed her, and withdrew. 
Behind her, like the fiat of Fate, 
Closed with a clang the postern gate ! 

— Forth to the world they hie away. 
The ship awaits in Firth of Tay. 
. . . The sails are set. . , . Afar they glide 
Across the bar to the ocean wide. 



ONNALINDA. I09 

Back to the shore they lingering gaze 

Till the hills are lost in purple haze. 

Home, friends, wealth, rank, all — all resigned ; 

All? Nay — they leave not all behind — 

By Love and Hope their steps are led . . . 

With Love and Hope they seek their bread ! 

... Of weary months 't were vain to tell- 
But briefly told (to skip the ground 
Like leaf in storm, with skip and bound): 
. . . They came — in a new world to dwell. 
Long months went by — and then a year. 
A little boy brought sunny cheer. 
But woes came fast to chill her joy — 
AVidowed was she ; with orphan boy. 
I linger not to tell of tears 

Above her love-devoted dead — 
Of toilsome days, of hopeless years : 

A struggle now for life and bread. 
. . . Ah ! could she send heart-broken plea 
To heedless sire beyond the sea 
Lolling in lap of luxury ! 



ONNALINDA. 

One morn in May came warriors red 
And tribal chieftain of renown ; 

Sudden they came with war-whoop dread . . 

A prisoner she ! — and forth they fled 
With captive to their Indian town. 

Thus parted from her child, her grief 
Touched to the heart the noble chief. 
Her pale sweet face in deep distress, 
He viewed with sacred tenderness. 
Then rose esteem from sympathy — 
Then honoured — then beloved was she, 
At last adored in sanctity. 

[Think not ye dwellers at your ease 
On pink divans and tapestries — 
Think not that love with nomad true 
Is slow of growth as 't is with you : 
On flying steed they pluck the rose, 
Nor stop to count its petals sweet,— 
The flower they pass, on palfrey fleet, 
For them no longer blows. 



ONNALINDA. Ill 

Then scorn not, gentles ! nor reprove 
These dusky warriors who woo 
With ceremonies brief and few — 

Who flying live, and flying love ! 

Is love less sweet, or sweeter thus, 

Because unceremonious ? 

If sweeter in civilities, 

In curt'sies and conventional. 

Then don your wigs, your lutes then seize. 
And sing your loves in madrigals ! 

Nay ! think not love can brighter be 

When gilded with formality.] 

Amidst the tribe my mother sate, 

Revered as saint immaculate. 
This chieftain of the dusky race 

She first esteemed and then admired ; 
His tender heart, his noble face, 
His manly form and knightly grace, 

Her faith and then her love inspired. 

. . . Sprung from a royal line was he — 

The forest's prime nobility 



ONNALTNDA. 

Whose origin no annals tell,— 

A famous chieftain, brave as true : 
Was he not worthy, then, to woo 

The captive whom he loved so well ? 
Is merit a mark — a badge of race ? 
Is honour a tint — a tinge of face ? 

Vanished but not — ah ! not forgot — ■ 
Her hours of woe, her years of strife : 

Then blame her not — O blame her not 
When she became the chieftain's wife f" 

. . . The seasons came and fled apace. 
Beloved, adored by chief was she. 

A sweet content shone in her face 
Save when a cloud from Memory 

Passed over, leaving there a trace 
Of days, tear-dimmed, that used to be : 
Her boy — her boy ! Oh ! where is he ? 
Oft in her prayer a tear revealed 
A sorrow deep in silence sealed. 



OXNALIXDA. 113 

One qniet eve she lonely sighed 
For those companions true and tried : 
Those pearls of prose and poet's lay- 
Were over the forests, far away, 
Unread, untouched by friend or foe, 
Beside the far Ontario. 
To know her wish, was, to the chief, 
A joy — a spur to action brief : 
The swiftest runners sped away 

To Cadaracqui's southern shore ; 
They flew by night, they flew by day, 

And found those gems of lay and lore ; 
Then swift o'er vale and wooded height. 
Eager to bring the new delight. 
They flew by day, they flew by night 

And back her dainty treasures bore. 

Joy in her home ! Sweet Peace and rest . . . 
Swifter the moments fled . . . 

One morn 
A little woodland girl was born : 
Love smiled, and all the years were blest. 

I 



114 ONNALINDA. 

My Story 's ended ... It would tire 
To tell of years that glided by. 

That chief was Kawanute, my sire, 
That little woodland girl was I. 



XXIX 

Silent sat Eben in surprise. 

Her tale, with tenderness replete. 

Was fraught with charm of lips so sweet, 
His wonder glistened in his eyes. 

To him bright Onnalinda grew 
Lovelier, dearer, with each word — 

And closelier still to him he drew 
That one dear form, beloved, adored ! 

He drew her hand with gentle grace 
In tender pressure of his own, — 
She gazing upward to the moon, 

And he upon her calm sweet face . . . 
What need of words his love to tell 
When silence speaks so well — so well ! 



ONNALINDA. II5 

XXX 

Can saintliest 'nun, devout and pure,' 

All tenderness of love resist ? 
Or turn away, with look demure, 

The sweetest lips that ever were kissed ? 

XXXI 

We leave them. 

We will not profane 

That tender scene with vulgar eye ; 

Tho' gladly would we linger nigh 
And hear the gallant soldier-swain 
Telling heroic deeds to her 
Of boyhood, manhood, sieges, war 
And of chivalric deeds that stir 

The heart of lovely listener. 



But turn we hence . . . again to meet 
Eben and Onnalinda sweet. 



Il6 ONNALINDA. 

XXXII 

Is it deceit ? And has she planned 
With Beauty's lure some artifice ? 
(A wily strategist may kiss 

With a stiletto in her hand !) 

Beware ! beware, brave Eben Stark — 
A kiss may lure for a purpose dark. 

Last night you said to Ronald Kent : 

" Deceit is never a sin in war ! " 
Perchance she holds this sentiment, 

And comes, with Love, th' ambassador. 
What if the sweet of lips you kissed 
Were honey of the diplomatist ! 

Remember, 't was not long ago 
We heard her murmuring words like these : 
" Well, what if I foil our enemies 

With weapon keener than blade or bow ! " 
Whether true, or false, she 's winning her way- 
For last night, too, we o'erheard her say : 



ONNALINDA. II7 

To-night when the moon shines full in his face 
I '11 there read clear each thought in his heart ; 
He shall not know, as I stand apart, ' 

How keen my glance each line shall trace." 

And shall we blame if she conspire 
To thwart the foes of her noble sire ? — 

One moon ago, so fair to see 

His realm beloved — ancestral home — 
Couched in a vale of peace and bloom. 

And slumbering in prosperity, 

With gladdening fields of waving corn, 
And hamlets glittering in the morn ; — 

Behold at eve the advancing Gaul ! 
Billows of smoke roll over the vale, 
Leaving but ashes and woe and wail — 

A Kamsin of fire o'erwhelming all ! 
O'er home of that sire red ruin swept, 
And he knelt on the blackened earth, and wept. 



irS ONNALIXDA. 

So, if she be true, or a luring cheat — 
Bright Onnalinda who would blame 
If she kindle in Eben's heart a flame 

To light the way to the Gauls' defeat ? 

And what if her love — 

Begun in deceit — 
Should end in a snare 

For her own pretty feet ! 

Eben's sagacious, gentle, though bold, 
And ready in war to bear the brunt ; 
But what if he meet and must confront 

His own wise maxim, and be cajoled : 
* Deceit is never a sin in war " — 
And himself be hoist with his own petard. 

(If Onnalinda can deceive, 

'\\Tiat saint on earth can he believe ?) 

But Eben the man would take good care 
Of Eben the lover, here or there ; 



ONNALINDA. 

If she prove kind as she began 
He '11 sink the Soldier in the Man. 
If she prove false, with purpose dark, 
Eben will rise to Captain Stark. 
If true she is, and so remain. 
Lover he is, and tender swain ! 



XXXIII 

The hour sped on. 

The twain they part. 

Campward went Eben thro' the wood. 
Blither his step, though in his heart 

Still nestled a strange inquietude. 

As miner dreams of nugget bright 

But slightly hidden beneath the mould, 

And trembling lest the morning light 

Reveal to earlier, happier wight 

The marvellous nugget of glittering gold, 

So Eben's heart in anxious mood 

Stirs with a keen solicitude 



119 



120 ONNALINDA, 

Lest Other hands his guerdon seize — 
Worth all a kingdom's treasuries ! 
And as he campward went he sighed : 

" Ah ! is there aught 'neath heaven secure ? 
From peering eyes can forests hide 

That star — my life's bright cynosure ! " 

(Mistrust ! an ever-tattling brook 

That winds thro' all Love's heritage ! . . . 

The head-lines in a lover's book, 
Creeping along from page to page !) 

So Eben thought, and homeward went. 
With just a twinge of discontent 
Spurred by a vague presentiment. 

. . . And homeward Onnalinda strayed 

Hesitant, thro' the glinting dew ; 

A vermeil tinge of deeper hue 
Upon her cheek her thoughts betrayed. 

And when she sank in sleep that bloom 

Crimsoned in dreams ... of whom — of whom ? 



ONNALINDA. 

The muse a moment drops the pen. 

Asleep the world. With presage dark 
Night broods above the hill and glen, — 

Beware ! beware, brave Eben Stark ! 

. . . With finger 'twixt the leaves to mark 
Midway, we pause, to ask again : 

On Onnalinda's cheek the bloom 

Crimsoned in dreams of whom — of whom } 



ONNALINDA. 



Part II. 



* * * * Your patience this allowing, 

I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing 

As you had slept between. ***** 

****** What of her ensues 

I list not prophesy." „ 

—Winter's Tale. Act iv. 



ONNALINDA. 



FART II. 



The midnight lowered o'er forest dim. 
Forth came the chieftain Kawanute 
With blade and bow ; on stealthy foot 

A score of warriors following him — 
Peers of the chief — a chosen band, 
Alert of ear and ready of hand. 

From crag to crag — from tree to tree — 
Weird shadows flitted thro' the night 
And by the camp-fire's flickering light 

Revealed impending jeopardy. 



126 ONNALINDA. 

The wavering moan of night-winds gave 

To dying fagot a fitful gleam 

That lanced and tinged with ruddy beam 
The Genesee's pulsating wave. 

The beams of swift-ascending moon 
Silvered the dewy hills of June. 



11 

But Onnalinda calmly slept, 

Tho' murk and menace lurk and lower ; 

Above her peaceful sylvan bower 
A sleepless Power a vigil kept. 

In dreams she saw a Saxon face, 

Blue-eyed and bearded, bending near . . 
Was Oonak dark, to him a peer — 

OoNAK, a brave of other race ? 

In dreams the form of Eben Stark 
Arose 'twixt her and warrior dark. 



ONNALTXDA. 1 27 

Her name she heard in other tongue — 

In softer, gentler accents fall ; 

Ne'er heard so sweetly musical 
As when in dreams she heard it sung. 

And still she saw, in fancy, near, 

That face, so near ! . . . and nearer still ! 

It bends . . . 

It touches ... 

Electric thrill ! — 
Quick-flushed, she wakes ! 

As startled deer 
That in the drowse of sultry rain 

Starts at the sudden rifle's ring, 

Dazed in the shock bewildering. 
With shivering nerve and misty brain — 
So Onnalinda, startled, 'woke 

As if by sudden rifle-shot. 

She 'woke to hear, ah not — ah not 
That voice in dreams that tender spoke ! — 
But on her vigilant ear there broke 

Signals foreboding threat and plot. 



128 ONNALIKDA. 

The crackling bush, and rustling glade, 
And hurrying tread of stealthy foot. 
Amidst the camp of Kawanute 
A quick and wild alarum made. 

From limb to limb flew startled owl, 
Gazing below with staring scowl. 

From rock to rock, from tree to tree — 
Like phantoms in that lurid light — 
Went flitting forms in glimmering flight, 

Grim portents of emergency. 

Stirred with a quick, prophetic thought, 
Her woman-heart foreboding beat ; 
And, gliding forth on agile feet . , . 

One glance . . . 

— and all the scene she caught 

Faces red-tinged in war's array — 
Dread proof of the impending fray ! 



ONNALINDA. I29 

Her sire she clasped ere rang the whoop — 
Precursor dread of wail and blood ! — 
And at her voice he calmly stood, 

And around him war's red council group. 

" Shame ! shame upon you ! " — 

Cried the maid — 
"Are ye like bats that haunt the night ? — 
And thievish wolves that fear the light ? 
Make ye a midnight ambuscade ? " 

Flashed her black eyes with fire of scorn ; 
And warriors quailed, with look forlorn. 

When Kawanute, the sachem gray, 

Heard Onnalinda's reprimand, 

He instant bade the swarthy band 
Defer their dark intent till day. 

(A woman's voice ? — 

It calms the chief 
As evening stills the rustling leaf.) 

K 



130 ONNALINDA. 



Ill 



HER FLIGHT. 

Soon round the smouldering council-fire 

Lay swarthy forms in slumber deep ; 

And soon, while they in heedless sleep 
Waited the gleam of morning dire, 

Forth like a barb from Scythian bow, 
Or skipping leaf in hurrying storm, 
Sped Onnalinda's lissome form 

To seize her oar in swift canoe : \ 



(Skilled with the oar her skiff to guide, 
To launch, to dart, to veer, to glide.) 



As rift of lightning thro' the murk 

She pierced the waves athwart the night, 
And swift as shimmering swallow-flight 

She skimmed beneath each pendent birk, 



GNNALINDA. I3I 

With flowing hair flung to the breeze— 
With parted lips and glowing eye . . . 
A form inspired ! 

'T would draw a sigh 

From Raphael or Praxiteles : 

Each movement fleet tho' seeming slow ; 
Such grace — tho' quick, it seemed not so ! 

O'er shingly bar, thro' bay and reach, 
Darting, she skimmed the Genesee 
Till, veered in bend beneath the lee. 

Her proud canoe rose to the beach — 
Proudly as though it knew it bore 
Queen of the woodland to her shore ! 

Then up the bank and o'er the brae, 

Featly she tript as chamois light. 

And lo ! she saw, thro' void of night, 

A blazing fagot, far away. 

Rising upon her gladdened sight. 

K 2 



132 ONNALINDA. 

Fleetly she went, as one would take 
Reprieve to martyr at the stake. 

Behold ! — a tent in yonder glade, — 
And there her flight she sudden stayed. 

..." Fly ! fly, O Eben Stark !— red, red 
Shall gleam the morning dew ! " — she said. 

Standing before that wakened tent, 
Herald she seemed from heaven sent. 

(Did she thus warn her father's foe — 
A traitor ? Let the sequel show.) 



Miraculous apparition she ! — 
With eyes aglow and lips apart ; 
Another than bold Eben's heart 

Would tremble in timidity ; 

But well that voice and form he knew, 
And her warm hand in his he drew. 



ONNALINDA. 1 33 

" Dear one ! " — said Eben — " here am I 

With twenty marksmen lying near, — 

Sweet Onnalinda do not fear — 
These pale-face w^arriors never fly ; 

No craven fear e'er trembling stirred 
Their rifles, aimed by eyes of blue ; 
Here 's Ronald Kent with rifle true 

Can trim the wing of humming-bird ! " 

Sudden she flushed. 

He spoke one name 
That mantled o'er her cheek with flame. 
Tho' Eben saw, he knew not why 
Quick flushed her cheek, and glowed her eye. 
. . . "Fear not ! " — he said — "for me or mine — 
Nor fear, sweet one, for thee or thine." 

She only answered, brief and low : 
" Beware at morn of stealthy tread I " 
Then drew her hand from his, and said : 

" Beware ! . . . 

My task is done, I go." 



134 ONNALINDA. 

" Heaven be thy guide, beloved ! " 

He saidt 

And to his lips her hand he pressed. 

Then with a heart in strange unrest 
She turned, and thro' the darkness fled. 

The forest's gloom was naught to her — 

Auspicious Hope her harbinger ! 
Onward, intent of thought she sped, 
Weighing each word that Eben said. 
One name he spoke that seemed to rise 
Dim, like a star in dusky skies, 

From out the mists of memory : 
A dear but half-forgotten word 
That long ago she often heard 

From lips that breathed it tenderly. 
And though on other thoughts intent. 
She murmured " Ronald " as she went. 

Oft gazed she rearward to the tent, — 
Well-pleased she saw a fagot swing — 
A wheel of fire — a flaming ring. 

Token of love undying, meant ! 



ONNALINDA. 135 

'T was Eben swung that fagot red — 
A flaming halo round his head. 

A moment lingering on the brae — 

To view once more the whirling brand, 
Then down the bank, and to the strand, 

And in canoe she sped away ; 

Swift as the shimmering swallow-flight 
She skimmed beneath the pendent birk, 
And as the lightning thro' the murk 

She pierced the waves athwart the night. 

O'er shingly bar, thro' reach of bay. 
She rounded swift the bending shore 
To mooring, whence, an hour before 

With eager oar she dashed away. 
Upon the beach, like bounding doe. 
Again arose her proud canoe. 

Stilly she gained her cedar bower 
Above the river's shelving bank ; 
And soft on couch of green she sank, 

To feign a sleep thro' all that hour J 



136 ONNALINDA. 

(None of that slumbering band of war 
Dreamt of a sweet conspirator !) 



'Twixt murmurings of the furtive breeze 

She heard the dreaming warriors moan ; 

They recked not of events unknown — 
Of plots, intrigues, catastrophies : 

So nigh to peril we repose ; 

A lurking thorn lies 'neath the rose ! 



IV 



STRATAGEM. 

Astir is Eben's camp ! . . . And hark 

The hurrying footsteps ! 

Ere the light 

Has touched the sable robe of night, 
Swift with his band came Eben Stark 

Thro' forests dim, over hill and dale, 

And up the river's winding trail ; 



ONNALINDA, 137 

Over crag and scaur and brambly fen 
Wary they came, with rifles keen, 
Till, sudden from cliff o'er dark ravine, 
They gaze below : — 

In shadowy glen 
Lo ! prone there lay round flickering fire 

The muffled forms of dusky men — 
A score of braves and sachem-sire. 



Then stealthy down the craggy steep 
To jutting rock and bush they cling — 
Noiseless as panthers ere they spring — 
Warily . . . 

Stealthily . . . 

Hushed, they creep 
Till in the glen. 

There, in array 
They wait the first pale gleam of day. 

(Learn from the crafty fox, who takes 
The pheasant just as morning breaks.) 



138 ONNALINDA. 



Now faintly pales the eastern sky 
When lo ! from bower above ravine 
Descending, covertly, unseen, 

Glides Onnalinda warily ; 

The craggy steep dim-lit with glow 
Of lurid camp-fire from below ; 
In stunted copse of pine and sloe 

Oft pausing, and with hidden glance 

Scanning the scene with vigilance. 



Then noiseless down the cliff she glides, 
And 'neath o'erhanging crag she hides — 
Unknown, unseen by hostile bands, 
In peering attitude she stands. 

VI 

Morn breaks ! . . . 

The first pale gleam of light 
Brings to his feet the sagamore 



ONNALIKDA. 139 

And scowling band, of braves a score, — 
Behold !— 

In bow-shot on the right 
Blank-ranged and bristling in their sight 
Are levelled rifles aiming keen 

At every heart of that red band ! 

. . . Sudden as thought, with upraised hand 
That maiden rises upon the scene, 
Upgazing as if to her were sent 
A message from the firmament ! 

Like herald of heaven, august she stands 

With palms outspread 'gainst friends and foes, — 
One palm to these, one palm to those — 

A barrier 'twixt the hostile bands. 

Red warriors tremble at the scene, 
(That heavenly maid, those rifles keen,) 
They quail. They bend in suppliant mien. 

(The bravest may the wisest be, 
And bow to fate's supremacy.) 



140 ONNALINDA. 

VII 

Bright Onnalinda ! forth she tript 
All radiant in her loveliness, 
Smiling, and with adroit address 

From bended bows the strings she slipt ! 
And e'en her sire now smiling gazed 
As up were levelled rifles raised ! 

She took the sachem's pipe of peace. 
And lighted it with flaming brand. 
, . . Then Eben Stark and his brave band 

Came forth like demi-gods of Greece ! 
And all that dusky group, amazed, 
At Eben and Onnalinda gazed. 



VIII 

Featly as fawn with timid foot 
The maiden stept to Eben brave ; 
Her hand to him she smiling gave, 

And led him near to Kawanute. 



ONNALINDA. 141 

With filial love, so sweet, so calm, 
Upgazed she in her father's face ; 
And with a dove-like, gentle grace, 

In his she laid her lover's palm ! 

Oh, queenly woman ! A sovereign star 
Smiling athwart the gloom of war ! 



IX 



TRUCE. 

Then Eben Stark and Kawanute 
With hand in hand fraternal stood ; 
And round them came their brotherhood- 

The pale-face, and moccas ined fool. 

Each looks at each in wonderment 

And weird suspense . . . 

Enchantment strange ! 

What sorcery hath wrought the change ? 
What power occult was hither sent ? — 



142 ONNALINDA. 

Dark eye and blue electric met 

In glistening flashes hence and thence : 
'T was LOVE — 

Earth's one omnipotence !— 

And thine the magic, sweet brunette ! 

(Is there no shadow lurking there 

With scowling brow ? Beware — beware !) 

Now down they sit on boughs of green — 

Pale-face and dusk- in council met, — 

Each takes in turn the calumet 
In silence and in peace serene ; 
Their eyes on her, bright woodland lass ! — 

Light as gazelle, and step as neat ; 

Behind her fairy-skipping feet 
Enamoured rose the supple grass. 

A charm that lit her modest glance 
Lay mirrored in her lustrous eye, — 
A chaste and gentle sorcery 

Kindled, illumined by romance. 



ONNALINDA. 

(Brighter the glance of Love may be, 
Darker the brow of Jealousy !) 

The Pipe she brings the sachem grave, 
And next, in turn, each warrior bold — • 
Like Hebe to the gods of old ! — 

A sweet solatium to the brave. 

For Eben next the Pipe she lit. 

With sweeter fragrance filled anew : 
But sweeter, Eben thought, the dew 

Her crimson lips had left on it ! 

He whiffs the graceful tortile rings, 
And coronals of peace they rise 
As if to crown and solemnize 

A convocation of the kings ! 

On curling wings of blue depart 

All evil spirits from the heart ! 



144 ONNALINDA. 

X ■ ■' 

OONAK — THE SILENT WARRIOR. 

Not all are calm . . . 

Not all sedate. 

With sullen-leering eye is one 

Among that score of warriors dun 
Whose bosom flames in jealous hate, — 
With darkling brow, foreboding threat, 

That warrior, Oonak, gloomed askance . 

How changed since leading in the dance 
The light gazelle — the sweet brunette ! 

(Is this that silent warrior dark ? — 
Is this your rival, Eben Stark ?) 



'T was but a moon ago roamed he — 

With Onnalinda wandering 

Thro' wood and dell of daisied spring 
And by the gladsome Genesee ; 



ONXA LINDA. I45 

By cove and covert, brake and bower, 

They lingered in the starry dew, 

And often in their light canoe 
They sailed till morning's rosy hour, 

(Oh, Love ! — thou strange anomaly !— 

A nymph to smile on such as he ! 

'T is Beauty's freak : — Of old 't was said 

That sooty Vulcan Venus wed. 

Love winks at pranks and freaks like these, 

And laughs at contrarieties.) 

Sojourner he, and whence he came 
A mystery he would not reveal ; 
Even Onnalinda's soft appeal 
He answered : 

" Oonak is my name . . . 
I came from tribe afar." 

Then mute. 
Across the hills three moons ago 
He boldly came with blade and bow, 
And joined the braves of Kawanute. 

h 



146 ONNALINDA. 

All else he answered, guttural, "Ough." 

She asked of kindred : " Ough." And when 
She asked of sweetheart : " Ough." And then 

She asked of wife — pappoose ? " Ough — ough! " 

Then she, to banter : 

'When you come 
To win a maiden, or to woo, 
Suppose she answers ' Ough * to you ? " 

But Oonak sat as turtle dumb. 

('T is he ! — of whom she hinted — "brave 
But silent as a forest grave.") 

She, jesting still so debonair : 

" You ask, have I a pale-face swain, — 

Suppose I answer so again ! " 
But dumb he sat, with sullen stare. 
, . . With manly form, but eye of lynx ; 

Crafty but valiant ; words but few ; 

And when they sailed in their canoe. 
Bright prattler she, and he a sphinx. 



ONNALINDA. 347 

(Silence in love, forsooth, thought he, 
Gave zest to its felicity.) 



XI 

THE TUMULT. 

The tale renew : — 

As Eben Stark 
Smiling returned the calumet, 
He kissed the hand of the brunette. 
Behold ! what flame from tiny spark : 
As match to bomb — a mine it sprung ! — 
That kiss was torch to Oonak's rage. 
He sprung ! , . . 

His belt as battle-gage 

At Eben's feet he fiercely flung ! 

Instant in camp confusion dire 

Of threat and oath, of rage and scath, 
Of eyes agleam 'neath brows of wrath — 

A kindling red of surging fire. 



:48 ONNALINDA, 

Firm stood heroic Eben then 

While round him rose the baleful rage : 

"Coward ! " he cried : ** I take the gage 
And meet you where you will and when ! 
Is it to fright this tender maid — 

Is this a time for clownish fray ? 

Base coward ! come — I lead the way — 
Take bow or blade to yonder glade ! " 

No coward Oonak. 

Flashed his look 

With rage, and hate's malignant glare. 

Then forth, as lions from their lair, 
To ghastly glade their way they took. 

And following them, in solemn pace. 

Went Saxon band and dusky face. 

Poor Onnalinda — stricken dove — 
Shrank trembling to her father's arm ; 
But powerless he to quell the alarm — 

The clashing feud of Hate and Love. 



ONNALINDA. 149 

With hands upraised to tearful eyes 
The impending scene of death to dim, 
Pale Onnalinda followed him — 

Beseeching him with sobs and sighs. 

. . . The maddening flames of jealous rage 

Ev'n Beauty's tears cannot assuage. 

" Ho ! warriors, cease ! " 

The chieftain cried — 

" What boots this wild uproar and brawl ? 

My camp and court a carnival ? 
Who breaks this truce let woe betide ! " 

" Be calm, O chief ! " 

Said Eben brave — 

" I know no truce in sight of shame : 

This lout, not I, must bear the blame • 
And woe betide the boorish knave ! 
Hither I came from realm afar 

With worthy knights of brawn and brain ; 

No record bleared with evil stain 
Is ours, in council or in war. 



150 ONNALIXDA. 

This base intruder in your tribe 
Has flung his challenge at my feet ; 
And here with blade his blade I meet, 
With scorn his scoff, with taunt his gibe ! 
This damsel . . . 

— worthy of her sire ! — 
Bright fairy of the blooming glade ! 
Her eye incites my eager blade 
And lights my heart with wonted fire ! 
. , . No truce I break, save with yon knave 
Who brought the honoured Pipe to shame. 
Think you I crouch like dastard tame ! 
No ! man to man, and glaive to glaive. 
We twain shall end this craven feud 
Ev'n now, and here ! " 

He ceased. 

With glance 
Of tiger Oonak glared askance 
Where Onnalinda shrinking stood. 

(One saw that glance. Did Ronald Kent 
Know it of old, and what it meant ?) 



ONNALINDA. T51 

Ah ! who his dark intent could know ? 

To mingle on the trampled sod 

His own and Onnalinda's blood 
Ere he should fall by Saxon foe ? 

Did Oonak fear the dire event — 

The risk of war's arbitrament ? 



Like panther fleet, with fell design 
Sprang Oonak, darting to the maid. 
Whirling aloft his flashing blade — 

A hideous ghoul incarnadine ! 

An instant hung that knife abhorred 
O'er swooning maid in terror bent 
When, PING ! 

— a shot from Ronald Kent- 

(Who trims the wing of humming-bird !) 

The blade flew circling in mid air — 
Cut sheer from hilt in Oonak's hand : 
Astounded, chief and warriors stand, 

And pale in mute amazement, stare. 



[52 ONNAI.INDA, 

Like gorgon dire with eyes of fire 
Stands baffled Oonak in his ire. 



xii 

One moment in uncertain dread 

Confused they gaze ; when lo ! . . on all 
Amazement new and marvels fall 

Like spectre sudden : 

A charging steed 

Dashes amidst the startled throng ! 
Reined by a maid of bearing high 
With fearless hand and flashing eye, 

And Indian trappings round her flung. 

Her glinting plumelet bowed and swayed 
While charger pranced in proud parade. 

One look she gave at Oonak grim, — 

He cowered in awe, as though her glance 
Transfixed his heart like glittering lance — 

With words of scorn addressing him : 



ONNALINDA. 153 

"Base traitor ! . . . 

False and cruel knave ! 
Think not I follow in your track 
To win a skulking traitor back : 
I scorn you . . , 

Spurn you . . . 

Coward ! — 

Slave ! " 
She paused. 

A silence deep . . . Like group 
Of figures cut in marble white 
They gaze on her with filmy sight, 
While guilty eyes of Oonak droop. 



What grace of movement and of mien ! 
As queen upon her throne of state, 
She calmly on her palfrey sate, 

And tranquil viewed the troubled scene. 

Cool Ronald stood — so calmly proud, 
Re-charging now his rifle true ; 



154 ONNALINDA. 

But once an upward glance he threw 
To that bright plumelet as it bowed ; 
And she, that maiden, smiling sent 
A brighter glance to Ronald Kent. 



" On yonder hill "— 

(the maid renewed. 
While Onnalinda, gazing mute, 
'Twixt Eben Stark and Kawanute, 
Flushed with reviving pulses, stood.) 

" On yonder hill I lost my way. 
I came from mighty tribe afar. 
My comrades few, are knights of war. 
We roamed in joust and in foray 
To this sweet dale of daffodil. 

. . . This morn from camp, alone I rode, 
And heedless strayed thro' fragrant wood, 
And lost my way. 

From yonder hill 



ONNALINDA. 155 

I saw the strife, 

I knew the cause, — 

My heart, inured, quick told me this : 

Wherever is evil, Oonak is ; 
Wherever is sorrow, Oonak was. 

Hither on winged steed I flew, 

And, swiftly nearing, soon I saw 

The deadly feud, the wild fracas, 
And rescue shot from rifle true." 

(She smiled at Ronald, and it gave 
His cheek a tinge of sudden bliss ; 
. . . What thing on earth so bright as this : 

A glance of Beauty on the Brave !) 

Then turning to chief Kawanute, 
Proudly she spoke, and resolute ; 
And he, proud Iroquois, gave ear 
To her whose tribe he scorned to hear ; 
For as the Greeks warred epic Troy 
The Algonquins warred the Iroquois ; 



156 ONNALINDA. 

" Daughter am I of chieftain brave 

Of the Algonquin tribe afar ; 

This Oonak named me ' Glinting Star ' 
When he to me this wampum gave, 
Which now beneath his feet I fling, 

To make fit nest for rattlesnake 

Like grovelling Oonak, who would make 
My heart a nest for ravaging. 

" He would not woo like noble brave — 
With tender words and gallant deeds ; 
But with his wampum-trinket-beads 

His passion sought to win a slave ; 

The sentry of my heart's stockade — 
Virtue — with guile he sought to entice, 
Then captive take, and sacrifice 

All treasures in the palisade. 

" A maiden's heart to him was not 
A rose to treasure sweet and pure ; 
'T was but a lentil for a boor — 

A garlic for a greedy sot. 



ONNALINDA. 157 

The purity he dare not stain 

He sought to blast by chilling slight . . . 

My heart I keep from stain or blight 
And pure it ever shall remain, 

" Beware of him when he is mute, — 
'T is silence of the panther's foot ! " 

She drew the rein, — 

Flung back her hair, 

At Oonak glanced with flashing eye, 

And finger pointing scornfully, 
Repeating with impassioned air : 

Base traitor ! — 

False, and cruel knave ! 
Think not I follow in your track 
With tears to win a traitor back : 
I scorn you . . . 

Spurn you . . , 

Coward ! slave ! " 



I5fi ONNALINDA. 

The rein she drew, — 

Her palfrey flew, 
A thistledown before the blast. 
They gazed ; but Ronald wondering cast 
A look confused. . . . 

*' Who t's she — who ? 
O heart ! " — he sighed. 

"What could it mean 
That glance of the Algonquin queen ? " 

And gazed he still with wondering eye 
Till, haply startled, soon he sees 
Her plume uplifted by the breeze 

And far behind her palfrey fly ; — 

He starts as if from dreamy trance — 

O Ronald ! — Blessed circumstance ! — 

O happy chance ! 

As forth he speeds, 
We follow in his path afar, 
Leaving the council stern of war 

To judge of Oonak and his deeds ; — 



ON N A LINDA. 159 

Whate'er the sentence, let it be 
The knell of vile duplicity. 



Ronald, he flies on eager feet 
To find the plume. 

O happy wight — 
O blessed breeze that winged its flight ! . 
Or was it ruse of maiden sweet ? 

Her palfrey wheels. 

Ronald she sees. 
Had she forecast that he would come 
With knightly grace to find the plume ? 

O Love's arch ingenuities ! 

Slow she returns with downcast eye 
As if in search — as if inclined 
To find what she hoped not to find. . . . 
O love — thou maze, thou Mystery ! — 
One word alone can compass thee : 
Incomprehensibility ! 



l6o ONNALINDA. 



XIII 



• GLINTING STAR AND RONALD. 

They meet. ... 

He bows. , . . 

So sweet she smiles 
His heart beats plaudits to the wind 
That whirled her plume so far behind, — 
He wished it whirled for miles, and miles !— 
To search with her thro' glen and grove, 
Thro' tangled copse, by tarn and cove. 

(With LOVE to guide, in lovers' quest 
The impossible seems always best !) 

Forth Ronald by her palfrey strode. 

Strict search he feigned, and hoped that she 
Would, for the nonce, be blind as he ! 

And thro' the hazel-copse she rode : 



ONNALINDA. l6l 

Thro' dale and dingle, bush and brake, 

They wandered, loitering, down and back — 
But clear they kept from beaten track ! — 

Bright plumelet ! was it for thy sake ? 

Then, gazing furtively around. 

He thought she knew he thought she knew 
Where lay the plumelet full in view, 

And (feigned surprise !) the plume he found. 

With tender hand he lifted it — 
Proud badge ! for knight a guerdon fit — 
And, giving it with humble grace, 
Closer he scanned her charming face ; 
Deep in her eyes' soft depths there shone 
A light that kindled with his own ; 
And gazed he, mute and motionless, 
Into those depths of tenderness. 
... As one in silent revery 
Gazes with absent, fixed eye. 
Striving to catch, in glimpses fleet, 
Visions that rise in memory sweet, 



l62 ONNALINDA. 

So Ronald seemed, as tho' his gaze 
Caught a bright glimpse of other days ; 
And thoughts of yore came thronging fast, 
Filled with dim visions of the past. 

She smiled . . . 

Her eyelids drooping meek — 
Those long, dark lashes on her cheek — 
And over her face there came and went 
The reddening flushes turbulent. 
As if her pulses sudden leapt, 
Startled with thoughts that long had slept. 

That strange, sweet smile she feigned to hide 
Quick told him all. 

" O heaven ! " he cried — 
" 'T is she ! 't is she ! " 

And to his breast 
Her yielding form he wildly prest ! 
And on his heart her face in tears 

Was smothered in a blest relief, — 
Her love unchanged thro' all the years, 

True daughter of the Algonquin chief ! 



ONNALINDA. 163 

That little girl — that bud maroon ! — 
Thro' years had grown, 'neath suns of June, 
And now by Ronald's side she stood 
The rose, full-bloomed, of womanhood ! 

Up from those buried Junes arise, 
Thronging, a thousand memories ; 
Those far-off years when, captive, he 
First drew her tears of sympathy ; 
That first long night of sobbing grief 
In camp of the Algonquin chief ; 
That sweet relief when first he knew, 
When he was crying, she cried too ! 

They thought of all those sweet sad years 
That rose in smiles to set in tears — 
Bright skies of youth, with menace flecked, 
They view in happy retrospect ; 
Dear days of old, when he would teach 

And she (bright pupil !) learned so well 
She knew the sweetest part of speech. 

And read his heart ere she could spell ! 



164 ONNALINDA. 

And of those days that darker grew 
With tears, to dim their sunnj^ blue ; 
When that mute warrior's wily plot 

With hate and dark intrigue was planned ; 
And through th' Algonquin chief he sought 

By stratagem to win her hand. 
— And ah ! that night when last they met 

And all the pangs of sorrow knew : 
When tears of blank despair beset 

The clinging anguish of adieu ! 

Thus Ronald and the Glinting Star, 
His only love — his first, his last — 
After the long, long years, o'ercast 
With lowering clouds of dark despair, 
So strangely and so sweetly there 
Meet in a fond embrace at last. 

To them this recompense was given 
For that dark night of long ago — 

When yearning gaze they sent to Heaven, 
Praying in agony of woe : 



OXNALINDA. l6i 

The rapture of that meeting there 

Was the answer to their yearning prayer. 

And now thro' hazel-copse they stray, 

In converse of the days gone by ; 
In gladsome mood they wend their way 

To yonder vine-clad canopy ; 
And there they sit, her hand in his, 
Recounting wondrous histories 
Of lives eventful, Happy twain ! — 
Who met — who parted — met again. 

(With eyes upturned inquiringly 
To Ronald now, thus questioned she 
Of scene so nigh a tragedy :) 

" Who is the maid I saw to-day — 
Whom vengeful Oonak sought to slay ? " 

RONALD. 

The chieftain's daughter. — I am glad 
The ball was swifter than the blade. 



1 66 ONNALTNDA. 

GLINTING STAR, 

Then she is not your sister ? 

RONALD. 

Mine ? 
Would I could call the heroine 
By name so tender. Sister ? No. 
Why ask me ? 

GLINTING STAR. 

She resembles you— 
A Saxon voice, a Saxon hue. 

RONALD. 

Oh, flattery ! *T would please a king 

To be like her in any thing ! 

You saw our captain ? He 'd forswear 

His name, fame, all the world for her — 

To be her humble worshipper ! 

Last night he told such tales I laughed, 

And told him she would turn him daft ! 



ONNALINDA. 167 

He said she was of noble blood, 
This gentle maiden of the wood ! 

GLINTING STAR. 

She has a look, a gentle grace 
Betokening another race. 

RONALD. 

Yes, — but he says this Indian girl 

Can claim a grandsire in an earl ! 

Such claim what boots it to prefer 

If earl shall make no claim for her ? 

What if I too should claim to be 

Earl's grandson, and he claim not me ! 

. . . And then he prates of coronet 

Where "pearls above the leaves are set," — 

A thousand such fantastic fancies 

Flash thro' his brain from Beauty's glances . . . 

You know the tale that, long ago, 

At quiet eve I read to you — 

An ancient tale of Love and Arms, 

Of heroes bold and Beauty's charms : 



l68 ONNALINDA. 

A lovely nymph, who, in that age, 
Set king and warrior in a rage — 
The sovereign made her sweet alliance, 
And set the warrior at defiance. 
The hero flung his armour down — 
He cared no more for king or crown — 
That nymph was dearer than renown. 
... A sounding tale ; and tho' 't is true, 
'T is nothing strange, and nothing new, 
For here 's another tale of Troy — 
Another nymph : that Iroquois ! — 
Our Captain will aver that she is 
Lovelier far than sweet Briseis ! 
He calls her, " Onnalinda sweet — 
A paragon from face to feet ! " 

GLINTING STAR. 

She 's charming . . . 

I have heard it said 
That Saxons, rich and noble-bred, 
Have im.ages of such as she. 
And hold them in idolatry. 



ONNALINDA. 1 69 

RONALD. 

Ah ! you remember, long ago, 
That little disk of cameo ? 
Since that sad night you gave it me 
Each day I 've blest you tenderly, — 
You little knew the treasure hid 
'Neath secret spring and tiny lid ! 



GLINTING STAR. 

As keepsake of a last adieu — 
'T was all I had — I gave it you. 

RONALD, 

You little knew its tiny space 
Held worlds for me ; 

A sweet, dear face ! 
Within my bosom, here, it lies 
Sacred, unseen by other eyes. 
Look ! here it is . . . its spring concealed 
Behold !— 

My mother's face revealed ! 



ONNALINDA. 
GLINTING STAR. 

Sweet face ! 't is like — 

RONALD, 

— but, pardon me, 
Whence came the disk ? Who gave it thee ? 

GLINTING STAR. 

'T was Oonak — when with bribery 
And plot he sought to entangle me. 
'T was found long years before, he said, — 
'T was when you first were captive led. 
'T was in a glade where hostile raid 
Burst on our tribe from ambuscade ; 
They captive seized a woman pale, 
And hurried her o'er hill and dale. 
Next day, in glade, upon the ground 
That disk the dusky Oonak found. 

RONALD. 

My mother ! O my mother ! . . . Years 
But sanctify that face with tears. 



ONNALINDA. 171 

GLINTING STAR. 

Her face — how strange. . . . 

On closer view 
Though it is like . . . yes, much like you, 
'T is more like her I saw to-day 
Whom cruel Oonak sought to slay — 
Her you call " Onnalinda sweet." 
Look ! . . . 

Is the likeness not complete ? 



Ronald no answer made. 

He sate 

Gazing and pondering silently 
As one who strives to read his fate 

In the dim blank of vacancy. 

Long time his mother's face he viewed 
In revery and solicitude — 
A vague suspense he could not hide 
Though one beloved was by his side. 



172 ONNALINDA. 

Here may we leave the happy twain. 
Good-bye : but soon we meet again ! 

(Our steps we turn — the day is late,- 
We speed to learn of Oonak's fate.) 



XIV 
OONAK. 

The sun is low. . . 

The winds are mute. . . . 

We near the group in council met. 

By Eben sits the bright brunette, 
And nigh them, judge-like, Kawanute. 

In thongs of moose-bark, Oonak, bound. 
Before the judge shrinks glowering grim. 
While silent either side of him 

The dusk- and pale-face gather round. 

The chief arose. 



ONNALINDA. 1 73 

His outstretched hand 
At Oonak points. A potentate 
With voice oracular, mien sedate : 

" You man of lies ! — 

Here bound you stand, 
Like crouching dog red-stained with blood. 
By truth and law you have been tried — 
By truth and law which you defied, 
Oonak ! what now ? 

Speak ! if you would." 

A guttural "oi/gh" came his reply; 
And a scowling glance afar he sent 
Where Glinting Star and Ronald went, — 

A fiendish vengeance in his eye. 

Dumb Oonak ! silence fits you well. 
Dumb Oonak — sphinx inscrutable ! 

(He who says aught when naught to say 
May prattle when he ought to pray !) 



174 ONNALINDA. 

Indignant rose the chieftain's ire 
And flashed his eyes' avenging fire, 
As sternly to his braves he said : 

" Take ye this Oonak forth straightway ! 
If seen alive, hence from to-day, 

Two of your lives are forfeited. 

And ye — " 

— Here sudden the brunette 
Upon her sire laid gentle hand 
As if to break the stern command ; 

With tender voice, and dark eyes wet, 

Some words she spoke in earnest plea 

That touched with light his brow of gloom — 
(A ray of hope for Oonak's doom ?) 

He paused . . . He stood reflectively, 

Then spoke : 

" Bad Oonak ! tho' you give 
No heed to woman's prayer or tear, 
Henceforth, I know, you '11 hold them dear : 

I speak — you die : 

She prays — you live ! 



ONNALINDA. 1 75 

Your life I spare. Quick, yonder go 
On foxes' feet ! — no laggard pace — 
And join your vile Algonquin race 
Afar beyond the Ontario . . . 
Hold! . . . 

Ere you go, your ear I nick — 
Like white man's sheep — with forked ear 
I mark you well ! 

Come no more here : 
You come again, and die ! 

Go — quick ! " 

(. . . If there 's one man for Heaven unfit. 
Truly, it is the Hypocrite ! 
... If one can merit a scourge inhuman, 
'T is knave who wins and flouts a woman.) 



Glowering around, with sullen tread 
Went Oonak on his lonely way. 
Night with her mantle dusk and gray 

O'er wood and glade a glamour spread. 



176 OXNALINDA. 

XV 

While to tlie camp as firm allies 
Return the groups of either race, 
We follow Oonak's crafty pace, 

Mistrustful of his vengeful eyes. 

Lurking he went his devious way 

By reedy cove and covert dim ; 

The deepening shades of night to him 
Were goblin-wraiths that seemed to say : 

" We 're ghosts of buried love . . . 

We come 

To follow Oonak to his doom ! " 
Each swaying bough — a spectral shade — 
To him a mock obesiance made. 



Scowling he went his darkling way, 
Cringing at phantoms rising grim ; 
Till halting short, ... as if to him 

A demon shrieked a sudden stay ! 



ONNALINDA. I77 

With quivering palm above his eyes 
Around he scowled with fiendish glare, 
Then from his path struck angular. 

On stealthy step and dark emprise 

Skulking he went. 

With lurid face 
Cadaverous in the moon's wan ray, 
Like cougar creeping to his prey 

Crept Oonak on his crafty pace. 

With wary hand each twig and bough 
He parts. He creeps on bended knee. 
He halts . . . 

He listens . . . 

Can it be 
The hum of breeze — or voices low ? 

Is it some happy rural swain 

Who wanders hither with his love 
To linger in the hazel-grove 

'Neath happy stars ?— 

Ah ! hapless twain ! 



178 ONNALINDA, 

Near and more near, and stealthier yet 
Crouching he creeps on quivering knee. 
On yonder vine-clad canopy 

His gloating tiger-eyes are set. 

A voice he hears that from afar 
Recalls the tender days of old, 
Ere love too bold grew harsh and cold — 

Chilling the heart of Glinting Star. 

(. . . Ah ! maiden of the rosy lip : 

A swain loves most when most in doubt, — 
Keep him just near, around, about ; 

We firmest hold what seems to slip. 

. . . Would you a lover fervent keep ? 
Oft let love's fire burn low and faint, — 
Beneath the ashes of restraint 

Subdue its flame, and let it sleep.) 



Oorak a jewel would not prize 
Until 't was dear to other eyes 



OXNALINDA. 



179 



And as he saw her love expire 
His love arose in maddening fire ! 

Listening ... 

Halting . . . 

He creeps along 
Again that voice ! — a tender cry — 
A wail of wakened memory ; 
It is a maiden's tender song-: 



Calm as the night 

Was heart of mine. 
Lulled in the light 

Of day's decline. 
No breezes stirred 

The folded wing 
Of dreaming bird 

Soft slumbering. 
Like heart of mine — 
O heart of mine I 



Love came and broke 

The slumber deep — 
The bird awoke 

From happy sleep, 
Ruffled its wing 

In wild unrest — 
A cruel sting 

Was in its breast, 
Like heart of mine— 
O heart of mine ! 



Then ceased the tender song ; but soon 
Is heard a voice of deeper tone. 



N 2 



l8o ONNALINDA, 

XVI 
THE ENCOUNTER. 

Now flames grim Oonak in his ire ! 

Another voice ! 

Calm voice and low, — 

And can it be his hated foe ? 
The thought turns all his frame to fire ! 

Sudden he rises . . . 

Close is he 
Upon the vine-clad canopy. 

He leaps — he springs like beast of prey. 

He fiercely clasps his foe around ! 

Clenched fast they fall upon the ground. 
They struggle wild in deadly fray . . . 

Ronald — 't is he ! 

Keen Oonak found 
The prey he tracked like subtle hound. 



ONNALINDA. l8l 

O hapless maiden — Glinting Star ! 

Of no avail thy shriek and wail ; 

And Ronald's aim of no avail — 
To trim the wing of bird afar. 

Wan faces neath the ghastly moon 

Grin fiendish. 

Grasped in deadly clench, 

With grappled forms they yerk, they wrench, 
They turn, they roll, in struggle prone. 

Ah ! Ronald — what a change is come 
From tender dalliance soft and sweet ! 
And, waning Star ! — 

God help thee meet 

Perchance thine own and Ronald's doom. 

Impetuous strife in even scale : 

They pause . . . They breathe , . . 

They close again. 
They roll, they writhe, they strike, they strain. 

Midst groans are heard the maiden's wail 



1 32 ONNALINDA. 

As piteous winds of midnight cry, 
So wails the maid in agony. 

Hard pressed is Ronald — sinking fast. 
The ogre Oonak o'er him lies 
With rigid grasp and flaming eyes, — 

Ah ! must brave Ronald yield at last ? 

Her cry he hears ! — His arm he wields— 
If yield he must, to Death he yields ! 

That shriek of maid nerves every limb ! 

His thews give quick convulsive throe ! 

He springs — he whirls the fiend below ! 
. . . And Oonak sinks aghast and grim. 

— So ends that warrior's dark career. 

Held firm to earth he silent lies. 

And all is silent save the cries 
Of stricken maid in shuddering fear ; 

These die away in quivering moan 

Like evening breeze's dying croon. 



ONNALINDA. 183 

And Ronald now with hunting-blade 

Takes trophy from his vanquished foe — 
Grim souvenir — in proof to show 

The fate of Oonak, renegade ! 

(Let Silence shroud the dismal tale, — 
Gladly we turn from woe and wail.) 



Brave Ronald and the Glinting Star 

Thro' moonlit copse now wend their way, 
Whither they hear her palfrey neigh 

Recall for her — the wanderer. 

In balmy dale they linger long ; 

And hearts that quailed in dire distress 
Now peaceful beat in tenderness — 

Soft rhythraed like a gentle song. 

— Return we now to camp afar. 

The hours flit by in happy flight. 

A benison and a kind good-night 
To Ronald and the Glinting Star ! 



184 ONNALINDA. 

XVII 

THE CAMP. 

Eben awalces . . . 

Alert is he 

Tho' all the camp in slumber lies ; 

While purple tints — Hope's auguries !- 
Gladden the Vale of Genesee, 

Whose river in clandestine Grove 

Kisses the waters of the Cove. 



And smiling wakes vermilion Morn — 
Tingeing the east with crimson blush ; 
The bobolink and busy thrush 

Make wild with song the blooming thorn. 

And busier yet the camps awake 
While jubilant reveille sounds ; 
Each warrior from his pallet bounds 

'l"o greet the radiant morning break. 



I 



ONNALINDA. jS5 



Gayer than wont, and scrupulous 
This morn is Eben in his dress ; 
His comrades hint of " daintiness 

And smile with ogles ominous. 



(A moment here the scribe would break 
The story's thread, for Eben's sake — 
A word aside, in lower tone 
Spoken for Eben's ear alone, — 
Reader ! pass on, 't is not for you — 
Unless like Eben a lover too ! — 
Pass on, and thence the tale renew.) 

O'erweening Eben ! be not sure : 
A hazard is Love's investiture — 
Possession only is secure. 

Think not her smile 's convincing sign — 
A proof — that Onnalinda 's thine. 
'T were cruel now with aspect glum 
To quote for swains an axiom ; 



1 86 ONNALINDA. 

But over your door put Motto-scrip — 

Or picture — of " the cup and lip." 

. . . But, courage ! swain — if woman can, 

She surely will not flout a man. 

But be not sure ! — tho' she may cry, 

There 's mischief twinkling in her eye. 

A riddle Samson could not solve : 
Her no yes no — her yes no yes. 
The Stagirite could not resolve 

This charming sphinx of rebuses ! 
Each word abetted by a glance 
Pierces his thesis swift as iance, — 
Quick as Apache spears his victim 
She stabs his predicated dictum. 

So, Eben Stark, beware ! beware 

Of woman's ways so debonair ! 

She sets a-flame with sparkling eye 

The Stoic's cold philosophy ; 

Maudlin is he in tenderness 

O'er thread that trails behind her dress ; 



ONNALINDA. 1S7 

Ecstatic on a burr he '11 dote 
If plucked from hem of petticoat ; 
And many a brave Rinaldo yet 
Is tangled in Armida's net. 

At times she '11 teach that love Platonic 
Is worse or better than love Byronic. 
To man it seems caprice — a whim — 
When half the foible is in him : 
What he 'd have her, that he must be — 
Be each to each auxiliary, — 
As Socrates was no gallant 
Xanthippe turned a termagant. 
. . . O woman ! what a guy to her 
The scientist or philosopher ! 

Do you believe Pythagoras — 

That as some beast we lived erewhile — 
She '11 grant perchance you were an ass, 

A guinea-pig or crocodile : 
She '11 recognize _y(?z^r ancestry, 
But claim no consanguinity ! 



iSS ONNALINDA. 

And would you ask, " What think you, madam. 
Of Evolution, now in vogue — 
Molecular germs in dust or fog ? " 

She '11 say, " My primal sire was Adam, 
Perhaps yours was a polliwog ! " 

She '11 trace her genealogy. 

And let him trace his own, you see. 

. . . Such theories are to her as chaff — 

She blows them with a rippling laugh. 

The buddhist, atheist, and gnostic, 

The deist and iconoclast, 
Beneath her searching, scorching caustic 

Wriggle and twist like worm aghast. 
Their premise, smiling she '11 admit. 

Then with one word, and eyes a-bright'ning, 
She gives their syllogism a fit — 

They think it struck with bomb or lightning ! 
. . . Beware, O Eben ! woman's eyes 
Still lure a thousand Antonies, 
And half mankind is still beset 
With Cleopatras of brunette ! 



ONNALINDA. 1S9 

If woman 's not a Rosalind 

And Portia and Imogen — 
The Sweet, the Pure, the True, combined, — 
Such you will find her ere you find 

One Phocion 'mong a million men. 



Man is an eagle flying high ; 

Small things he scorns, or sees not any ; 
Woman 's a chicadee close by, 

And sees each speck, each rift and cranny. 
. . . O woman ! wisest, brightest, best ! 
Knows all man knows — she '11 guess the rest ! — 
Knows all man knows, and in addition, 
Knows every thing by intuition. 
And be she aborigine, 

Or Saxon blonde, or arch brunette, 
She '11 teach a man in love that he 

Not even knows his alphabet ! 

Ah, sanguine Eben ! be not sure ; 

Your bond 's yet blank — lacks signature ! — 
Possession only is secure. 



IQO ONNALINDA. 

XVIIl 

The tale renew : — From flitting dreams 
Wakes Onnalinda — charming lass ! — 
Like glistening dew upon the grass 

Sparkle her eyes with radiant beams. 

Her lissome form in soft attire 

She trimly robes with dainty hand, 

And decks with princess' ermine grand — 

Rich trophies won by hunter-sire, 

Richer than purple garb of Tyre ! 



Her fairy feet in chamois shoon 

With jet and amber beads begemmed ; 

Her shapely waist bright diademmed 
With sheeny circlet — starry zone ! 

On rounded arm an amulet ; 

A chaplet o'er her brow she set ; 
In opulence her lustrous hair, 
Faint-scented with aroma rare, 

Fell round her form. . . . O sweet brunette ! 



I 



ONNALINDA. 19I 

Bright is the day ! The thronging birds 

Bibble and babble songs ecstatic, 

Like poet in a fit erratic 
Metering, jingling, jargon words. 
The quiet waters of the Cove 

Lie as if dreaming sweet and calm ; 
The boughs of bloom bend from above 

With solace of ambrosial balm. 

No hut of Celt, or Saxon pale, 

Then broke the landscape's harmony — 

No hovel flecked this emerald vale 
Like mote in Beauty's azure eye. 

No Slanderer then, with tongue of asp. 
Darted his slime at each fair name ; 

No Gossip fouled with slimy grasp 
The roll of Virtue and of Fame, — 

The Slanderer then was in his cell 

Deep in the Ninth ' foul cave of hell. 

* Inferno, Canto xxx. 



192 ONNALINDA. 



XIX 



Forth to the mead leads Kawanute ; 

Bright Onnalinda by her sire ; 

Eben and band in gay attire ; 
Then warriors of moccas'ined foot. 
. . . Fantastic troop ! — a motley train, 
Surging and winding o'er the plain : 
The Saxons white, in coats of blue, 
Marching aligned in order due ; 
Red warriors striped with every tint 
Of plant or berry, scoke or mint ; 
Mantled in garb of gayest tinge ; 
Leggins of doe with quill and fringe ; 
All tasselled and plumed, before, behind, 
With feathers waving in jocund wind ! 
Onward they went, of every hue, — 
Grotesque that motley retinue ! 

"... I know you, Eben Stark, and well "- 
Said Kawanute the sachem grave — 



ONNALINDA. 193 

" And well I know your warriors brave, 
With eyes of hawk and thews of steel ! 
^ly band is brave as e'er drew breath 
Although we dropt the bow and belt, 
And down before your rifles knelt, — 
We knew that Eben Stark was death ! " 

" Brave Kawanute ! " — 

— then Eben said — 
" We raise no more the bow or brand : 
I come to claim — to ask — the hand 

Of Onnalinda — woodland maid ! " 

" How can she be so dear to yon — 
Does pale-face love so soon — so soon ? 

And how can Onnalinda know 

You love so quick — one moon, one moon ! 

Bad love is quick, and swift of foot : 

Quick come — quick go ! " — says Kawanute. 

" He that would run with laggard pace 
With such a guerdon as the prize — 

o 



194 ONNALINDA. 

Love that would loiter in the race 

Beneath bright Onnalinda's eyes — 
His feet are lead ; his soul is dark ; 
His eyes are blind ! " — says Eben Stark. 

KAWANUTE. 

Where have the Saxon maidens fled ? — 
Will not the pale-face daughters wed ? 

EBEN STARK. 

The Saxon maid ? There 's naught can vie 
With the heavenly azure of her eye, 
But dark eyes dart a lance as bright 
As lightning-rift athwart the night ! 
. . . Brunette 's a ruby ; blonde 's a pearl : 
But blonde 's a saint, — brunette 's a girl ! 

KAWANUTE. 

Hold ! hold ! — what 's ruby, blonde, and pearl, 
Lances and lightning, saint and girl ? 
When indian jingles words so bad. 
We Indians call him crazy-mad ! 



ONNALIXDA. I95 

When white man 's mad, and dares to sliow it, 
They say you white men call him " poet " ! — 
They jingle talk, — I see that you 
Try fly sky-high as poets do ! 

EBEN STARK. 

No poet I,— plain " Eben Stark." 

I 'd be a loon, and not a lark ! 

Tho' poets great, unlike the player, 

Grow greater as they 're growing grayer, 

Most poets early cease their song 

And rhymes grow short as beards grow long ! — 

They cease to soar — on earth they tarry — 

The lark turns loon, and — 

KAWANUTE. 

— then they marry .? 



Merrily rose a peal of laughter, 
Echoing thro' the woodlands after. 



196 OXXALINDA. 

Onward, as if on project bent, 
Both pale and dusky warriors went 
Together o'er the daisied plain ; 
But Onnalinda, Eben Stark, 
And Kawanute the sachem dark. 
In earnest council here remain. 



XX 



A QUESTION. 

The chieftain now, with lifted brow, 
Turning to " Onnalinda sweet" : 

" My Onnalinda ! — 

When, and how, 
And where did you the pale-face meet ? 
A mystery to me, it seems 
Hid in the foggy land of dreams." 

(A tinge carnelian flushed her cheek 
As Onnalinda answered meek :) 



ONNALINDA. 197 

XXI 

ONNALINDA EXPLAINS. 

One afternoon, ere twilight's hour, 
I wandered from my little tent 
And far into the woodlands went, 

Led by the charm of bird and flow'r. 

Far down the river from this Cove, 

A little brook in babbling glee 

Leaps laughing to the Genesee ; 
And there, within a lovely grove, 

I sat, while birds a music made 

Sweet as pale lover's serenade. 

(The chieftain smiled ; and Eben, he 
Grew flushed , . . O subtle flattery !) 

While thus I lingered in the nook 
Listening to song of bird and brook, 



ipS ONNALINDA. 

Far in the woods the sudden sound 

Of crackling bush quick broke the charm. 
Startled I rose in dread alarm, 

When, past me with a vaulting bound, 

Darted a doe and then a hound. 
Into the river deep the doe 
Leapt, plashing, from its howling foe. 

Trembling I gazed. 

Then peering through 
The covert where I shrinking stood. 

Two braves I saw, in caps of blue. 
Come swiftly thro' the crackling wood. 

They halted by my covert near 

Where deep concealed I trembling lay ; 
Their hurried breathing I could hear ; 
My heart seemed throbbing in my ear — 

A traitor ready to betray. 
They stood, and watched the doe at bay, 

(Their rifles resting on the ground,) 
They seemed in pity for the prey 

Harassed with menace of the hound. 



ONNALINDA. I99 

Pale-faces they ; and though equipped 
With pouch and horn and hunter's knife, 

Their coats and caps with tinsel tipt 
Gave token of the warrior's life. 

The one a chieftain, proud and tall, 

The other he called his "corporal." 

I gladly heard the gallant chief 

Speak tenderly of harassed doe ; 
He little knew what sweet relief 

He gave to one in covert low ! 

" Call off the hound ! " 

The chief he cried— 
" Such cruel sport I will not bide, — 
No hunter worthy of the name 
Will slay the snared, defenceless game, — 
Call off the hound ! " 

Such tenderness 
Gave solace to my heart's distress. 
Brave chief ! with sympathy inspired — 
Whom first I feared, I now admired. 



200 OXNALTNDA. 

Soon up the bank the obedient hound 
Darted trail-sniffing, round and round, 
Near me and nearer, till at my side . . . 
" Save me ! oh save ! " — 

I shrieking cried. 
Quick sprung the hunter to my aid ; 
Amazed but calm of voice he said : 

" Fear not — fear not, my pretty maid ! 
Safe are you here from hurt or harm 
. As though upon your father's arm, 
. . . Why came you to this lonely glen ? 

Meekly I told him why, and when. 
I told my name, my home ; and then, 
(Grown braver 'neath his cheery smile,) 
Of sire, of camp, of Cove, and isle. 

His comrade — worthy to be his peer — 
Now spoke to him in undertone, 

Then followed hound and flying deer, — • 
The chief and I were left alone. 



ONNALINDA. 

His voice and face, of guile so free, 
His kindly smile and courtesy, 
A sweet assurance gave to me. 

He told me of his home afar, 

And how he joined with France — our foe ; 
The unholy strife he did abhor ; 
And, wearied with the wicked war. 

He came to hunt the bounding doe. 

He told of comrade-braves — a score, 

Who came with France's marshalled men, 

But left the ranks. 

They war no more — 
They hunt the deer awhile, and then 

On Kadaracqui's peaceful shore 

With him they greet their homes again. 

Their tents are pitched at Crooked Bow, — 
Methinks I 've heard their distant drum, — 

A sprightly oar in light canoe 
In little hour may go and come ! 



)2 ONNALINDA. 

(She smiled . . . The sachem could not know 
Why she should smile, and Eben too, 
At mention of the light canoe !) 

Strange tales he told . . . An hour flew by, 
And sunset tinged the evening sky. 
Bewildered now I sought the trail 
That homeward led thro' bush and dale. 
The gracious chief before me went 

Parting the boughs that interlace, 

Till, gazing thro' an open space. 
Afar I saw our island tent. 
He stood ; then spoke so tenderly : 

" When far away I know I '11 meet 
In fairy dreams a princess sweet — 
Her name shall Onnalinda be ! " 

He bowed. He waved his cap of blue, 
And tenderly he said, "Adieu ! " . . . 
A deep regret was in that tone, — 
It seemed a sigh or tear repressed, 



ONNALINDA. 203 

A veil seemed o'er my senses thrown — 
Thro' misty eyes my path I guessed. 
... As wounded starling to its nest 
Flutters with sorrow in its breast, 
With fluttering heart I homeward drew, 
Touched with the sorrow of adieu. 

(And Onnalinda paused. 

Then he, 
Her noble sire, with brows relent 
As if in kind encouragement, 

With gentle voice inquiringly :) 

" You met but once ? How can you know 
He 's not our foe in crafty guise — 
These braves who came in quick surprise 

How know you they are not our foe ? " 

" I '11 tell "—said " Onnalinda Sweet "— 
" Each eve I wandered from my tent, 
I knew not how or why I went, 

My heart seemed urging forth my feet ; 



204 ONNALINDA. 

I know a spirit led my way, 
And such a guide will not betray ; 
I found, whatever path I took, 
My heart before me at the brook ! 
Each eve I saw, when gazing through 

The covert where I lingering stood, 
One pale-face, in his cap of blue, 

Come softly thro' the silent wood. 
New tales and strange he told each day 
Of sights and cities far away ; 
Of battles, sieges, fort, and trench, 
Of Saxon struggles with the French. 

There came a courier yesterday — 
Order from Denonville, it read : 

' Quick join the ranks ! One hour delay, 
I come and take you, 'live or dead ! ' 

'T was answered : 

' Threats are empty wind. 
Send me no more your lackeyed hind. 



ONNAI.IXDA. 205 

We war no more with Kawanute. 
We hunt the doe, — but not too blind 
To see a Frenchman or to shoot ! ' " 

(At this her sire in laughter broke, 
And gayly, in acknowledgment, 
A smile and nod to Eben sent. 

And then in thoughtful mood he spoke :) 

** How came these braves ? — 

Who was their guide ? 
If friends why come in quick surprise 
With rifles aimed by eagle eyes ? " 

Then Onnalinda shrewd replied : 

" In arms they came to prove to you 
Their courage and their kindness too ; 
They took you by a quick surprise 
To prove the white man swift and wise, 
A spirit led them on their way 
Who led ME to the nook each day ! 



30 ONNALINDA. 

Could not a spirit guide thro' wood ? 

Or walk, or talk, or sail canoe ? 
What man can do a spirit could, 

And these a little maid can do ! " 

(Her questions 'woke a droll surprise — 
The sachem's eyes in mist appear ; 

But brightly blinked the maiden's eyes 
At words she spoke for Eben's ear !) 

The sachem pondered — befogged in doubt, — 

What spirits walk and talk and do ? 
He seemed the most perplexed about 

The spirit sailing in canoe ! 
... As when three gossipers are heard, — 

The first one something strange has said ; 
The second, sly, winks at the third ; 

That means: " You know him — wrong in head." 
So winked the sachem — as much as said, 
"A little flustered in her head ! " 
But still he knew her logic good : 
" What maid can do, a spirit could ! " 



ONXALINDA. 207 

Though deeply, strangely mystified 
With Onnalinda's spirit guide, 
Her filial truth he would believe — 
So guileless she could not deceive. 
Good ghosts, he said, were never about 

When HE went groping the thickets through ! 
" If spirits would guide the white man out 

They 'd surely guide old indian too ! . . . " 
And still it was his darkest doubt 

Of spirits a-paddling in canoe ! 



Tarrying thus in colloquy 

On themes of strange concern intent, 
Sudden they turn in wonderment. . . . 

Approaching, who are these they see ? 

A maid, a palfrey, and a groom ! 
Advancing near, they recognize 
And greet with fond and glad surprise 

Ronald, and maid with flowing plume. 



ao8 ONNALINDA. 

XXII 
DISCLOSURE. 

In Ronald's face they well might see 
A look of weird perplexity. 
And scarce a greeting did he give, 
But cast a look inquisitive, 
Gazing at Onnalinda. . . . Why, 
Why turned to her that troubled eye ? 
. . . Then touching Eben's arm, the two 
From out the group apart withdrew 
In low and hurried interview. 

Meanwhile " The Star," in story brief, 
Gave Onnalinda and the chief 
A swift recital of events 

That seemed to them strange mysteries ; 
And, ere she paused, told incidents 

That startling 'woke a new surmise. 
And when she paused, in mute suspense 

They gazed into each other's eyes. 



ONNALIXDA. 209 

Ronald and Eben — can we know 

What weighty theme engrosses them ? 

Is it some new discovered foe 
Lurking in plot and stratagem ? 

No. We shall guess, — 

When coming near, 
Eben's last words we overhear : 

" Yes, Ronald, so she said last night. 

I should have told you this before, 
But since that hour, in bustling plight 
With hurried march and threatened fight, 

I thought of it no more . . . 
But there she is . . . Go, Ronald ! go, 
Ask Onnalinda — we shall know." 

Pale with a deep anxiety 

Ronald before the maiden stood 
Silent and motionless. 

And she 

Viewed him with faltering attitude. 



ONNALINDA. 

As if both doubt and hope were blent 

Into a vague presentiment, 

That from the far-off years he came 

As messenger with tidings sweet, 
And that he bore the tender name 

Her mother would so oft repeat. 

Then Ronald from his bosom drew 

The disk — that face he loved so well — 

And held it open to her view 

While tears, repressed, his eyelids swell. 

A sudden pallor blenched her cheek. 
She started with a tremulous shriek : 

" Mother !— 

My mother's face ! — 

'T is she ! . . , 
Ronald ! O Ronald !— 

It is he ! ... " 
That disk^that face beloved so well — 
She clasped with eyes to Heaver, and fell 



ONNALINDA. 2] 

in Ronald's arms, and sobbed, " My brother ! " 
And in his loving arms he pressed 
His own sweet sister to his breast, — 

The children of one sainted mother. 

(" Half-brother," him the world would deem, 
But brother in her heart's esteem.) 



The scene we leave to painter's skill — 
Beyond the touch of poet's quill : 
The blank amaze of noble chief 

Who oft the name of " Ronald " heard 
When, years before, her tears of grief 

Flowed at the mention of that word ! 

And now his rapturous delight — 

The disk that stirred fond memory ! — 

That face that beamed upon his sight, 
And moved to sacred ecstacy. 

His frame was thrilled with tender joy — 

Brave Kawanute, the Iroquois. 



212 ONNALINDA. 

The Glinting Star and Eben stood 
Gazing, but in no startled mood, 
For they, ere this, had clear surmise 
(Dulling the brightness of surprise) 
That brother here would sister meet- 
Ronald and " Onnalinda sweet ! " 



XXIII 

Now arm in arm, thro' mead afar, 
Ronald and Onnalinda went. 

While Eben, chief, and Glinting Star, 
Stood pondering o'er the strange event. 

And need we ask where roam the two ? 
Or ask what sudden thought first sent 
A thrill thro' heart of Ronald Kent 

Tho' her he met he never knew ? 

Her face, her form, to him revealed 

One whom the years and tears concealed. 



ONNALINDA. 213 

Alas ! till now one little ray 

Of hope he saw — so slight, but sweet — 
That somehow . . . 

somewhere . . . 

in some way 
His long-lost mother he should meet. 

'T was not to be. 

Across the mead, 
By Onnalinda loving led, 
He goes to yonder sacred glade 
Where gentle hands a mound have made 
Sweet with the rose and daisy blent ; 
Under the bloom their mother sleeps. 
And there " sweet Onnalinda " weeps, 
And by her side kneels Ronald Kent. 

Thus linger they an hour above 
That hallowed shrine of mutual love. 

Tho' in his heart deep sorrow dwelt, 
Yet one dear solace Ronald felt : 



214 ONNALINDA. 

His mother's path thro' all those years 
Beamed with a love undimmed by tears. 
When memories gloomed her heart in grief 
It vanished 'neath the smile of chief, — • 
Deep in his heart and tenderly 
Beloved, revered, adored was she. 

And Ronald now that solace felt — 
The mist of years uplifted wide — 

As by his mother's grave he knelt 
With Onnalinda by his side, 

In whose sweet face there softly dwelt 
The loveliness of her who died. 

Now arm in arm again they stray 

Across the sunny fields afar ; 
And sunnier, happier, Ronald's way 

When nearer to the Glinting Star ! 
. . . Again in joyous group they meet 

Around the chief in close attent — 
Eben and " Onnalinda sweet," 

The Glinting Star and Ronald Kent. 



ONNAI.INDA. 215 

While thus their converse they renew, 
Across the dale we wander hence 
To that huge oak whose eminence, 

As monarch, rules the distant view. 



XXIV 
THE RENDEZVOUS. 

'T was noonday calm o'er mead and grove. 
Here stood that oak whose mighty form 
Was shield against both sun and storm 

And sentinel to isle and Cove. 

Assembled 'neath the monarch tree 
Were groups of warriors tarrying, 

Watching in bright expectancy — 
As vassals wait the approach of king. 

Rifles and bows against the tree 
Reclined in wondrous amity ; 



2l6 ONNALINDA. 

As if the Saxons' burnished arms 
Made friendly treaty with the bow, 
And these, in soft return, would show 

Love for the Saxons' brilliant charms. 

Here grouped a band of warriors dun, 
In garb of doeskin neat arrayed ! 
And from their brows gay feathers swayed 

Like bending lilies in lagune ; 

Their garments edged with frill and fringe 
In pigments of the gayest tinge. 

Sedate they sat in stoic ease 

With arms a-kimbo round their knees, 

Disdaining drill or order. 



Thus 



They sat in group promiscuous. 



And facing these, beyond the tree 
A score of Saxon chivalry ; 
They stood in order's strict align 
That showed their leader's disciplme. 



ONNALINDA, i2l7 

But why these clans in pomp compare ? — 
As Beauty's self a fright would be 
Without the charm of modesty, 

So warriors' pomp is tawdry flare 

Without the thews to do and dare. 



XXV 

The meadow shone in velvet green, 
With lace of daisies' silver sheen 

Brooched with the daffodils of gold, — 
What 'neath heav'n's azure can compare 
With that bright emerald robe so fair 

That God's own hand hath here unrolled ! . 
If He His footstool robes so bright, 
What splendors crown His Throne of Light ! 

Sweet vale ! unknown to ruthless band — 
So pure, so fresh from God's own hand ! 

. . . Behold ! thro' meadow's tender grass 
Comes one as tender, pure, and sweet ; 



ONNALINDA. 

In chamois shoon so light her feet 
The daisies smile — sweet woodland lass ! 
And by her side the chieftain dark, 

With stately step and kingly mien ; 
And on her right proud Eben Stark, — 

Bright Onnalinda walks between. 
Behind them — on soft themes intent — 
The Glinting Star and Ronald Kent. 

They reach the groups beneath the tree ; 

And Onnalinda's lustrous eyes 

Beam from their depths in gentle guise 
To greet the Saxon chivalry. 
They bend in homage, cap in hand, 

And greet her with a martial glance, 
While rose the dusky warrior-band 

Bowing to her recognizance. 

The chieftain standing by the oak — 
Like it majestic and sedate — 
With pomp and grace of advocate 

Thus grave but tenderly he spoke : 



onnalinda. 219 

kawanute's address. 

" My children ! hear me. 

I am old. 

My eyes are dim with dust of years. 
Before me like a belt unrolled 

My path from youth to age appears. 
— Before my path knew white man's foot 
No sorrow knew old Kawanute. 
The Frenchman came. . . . 

My path soon led 

Winding among my children's graves. 
My heart was sore. 

The white man's tread 

Trampled the earth on buried braves. 
. . . Shall foemen hurl us from this sod ? ' 
Our hearts lie under the sacred clod ! — 
That little grave by yonder tree 
Holds all that made life dear to me ! 
. . . Glad, glad am I these Saxons here 
Turn from the French to hunt the deer," 

See Note at the end of Vol. 



20 ONNALINDA, 

(Here Kawanute with solemn tread 
Turned to his dusky braves, and said :) 

" I fear no more this Saxon chief. 

These Saxon braves no more I doubt. 
Too brave their chief for crafty thief — 

Brave heart within rules hand without. 

I '11 trust my Onnalinda's eye. 

If there 's a knave she finds him quick. 
You know three moons ago a spy 

Sneaked to our camp as hunter sick. 
In hunter's dress of fur and hide, 

With limbs so weak and joints so loose ! — 
We pitied as he groaned and sighed — 

We fed him as a sick papoose. 
When him my Onnalinda eyed, 

With glance of peering chickadee 
She saw straight through his dress of hide, 

And sent a warning glance to me. 
Thro' rent in coat — a rift in seam — 

She saw a shining button gleam ! 



OXNALINDA. 2 2 

Danger he knew that glance did tell. 

' Your meat ' — he said—' quick makes one well! ' 

He darted out. . . . 

Papoose so sick 
Was never cured so sudden quick ! " 

(The warriors laughed. 

But serious he 
Continued in his dignity :) 

"As friends these Saxon braves have come,— 
They hurl afar the Frenchman's drum. 
Their chieftain wise and brave and kind, 

Will fight no more 'gainst Kawanute — 
Will fight no more until too blind 

To see a Frenchman or to shoot ! 

We bury tomahawk and bow ; 

And he, — he buries gun and knife, 
And asks that Onnalinda go 

With him on long, long trail of life." 



222 ONNALINDA. 

He scarce had ceased when — hark ! . . . 

What sound 
From woods that girt the meadow round ? 
Clamour of cries tumultuous swells — 
Clamour of shouts and whoops and yells ! 
And louder, fiercer, wilder, higher, 
Arose the fiendish yells, and nigher ! 
Around the mead for many a rood. 
Wild uproar filled the trembling wood ! 
Up from the fen and glade and glen 
Echoed the hillsides back again. . . , 
Sudden from out the verge of wood, 
Circling around for many a rood, 
Savages wild in war-paint stood 

While shouts uproarious rent the sky ! 
Quick to their guns sprung Eben's troop. 
Quick into marshalled order group, 
Facing the storm of yell and whoop — 

Ready to do and ready to die ! 

" Comrades ! let no ball miss its mark — 
Ready ! Take aim ! " — spoke Captain St 



ONNALINDA. 223 

" Hold ! hold ! "— 

Cried chieftain Kawanute — 
" Would you my warrior-children shoot ? " 

Then high in air he raised his hand 
As if afar to send command. 

Instant a sudden silence fell 
On all that fiendish whoop and yell ; 
As when the bellowing thunders cease 
And all the land is hushed in peace. 

Calm Eben stood, though in his eyes 
A mingled look — not all surprise, 
But wonder mingled with surmise. 
He quick demanded : 

" Whence this crew 
With whoop and howl and wild halloo ? " 

KAWANUTE. 

Do you not see them quick obey 
A sign from me ? My warriors they ! 



224 ONNALIXDA. 

CAPTAIN STARK. 

If this be snare and stratagem 
I answer not for you nor them. 
And she. , . . 

I see her crafty smile. . . . 
Am I ensnared by woman's guile ? 
And you I deemed to fealty true — 
Is this foul treason planned by you ? 
— I fear not all your savage rout 
Tho' hills would shake with whoop and shout ! 



KAWANUTE. 

A traitor I .' . . . 

And she a cheat — 
She who was " Onnalinda sweet ? " 

CAPTAIN STARK. 

Think you your game so easy won ? 
Not till this mead with blood shall run, 
And many a carcass lying low, 
Food for the buzzard and the crow ! 



ONNALINDA. 

Ere comes that rabble here, the mead 
Shall reddened be with swaths of dead ! 
]\Iy comrades few, but where we fall 
Death shall hold gory carnival ! 
— Comrades ! . . . 

Attention ! . . . 



Ready- 



KAWANUTE. 

Hark- 
Hear me a word, brave Captain Stark : 
Do you forget that it was thus 
Your white-face warriors came on us — • 
And as we woke, ere rising sun, 
At each of us a levelled gun ? 
We indians learn from white man quick. 
And now, you see, we play you trick ! 
— But what did Onnalinda say, 
To make excuse for trick you play 
Ere break of day, with stealthy tread — 
What was it Onnalinda said? 



226 ONNALINDA. 

ONNALINDA. 

I said he went to prove to you 
His Courage and liis kindness too: 
To meet in arms a chieftain bold 
Truly his dauntless Courage told ; 
Those rifles aimed, a kindness meant— 
Prepared for war is to prevent. 
. . . He took you by a swift surprise 
To prove the white man swift and wise !- 
To win your favor he would prove 
His Courage, kindness, and — 



CAPTAIN STARK. 

— his love ! 

KAWANUTE. 

Give me your hand, brave Captain Stark ! — 
I too have proved you well ! — 

Now mark : 
These thousand braves who hem us round 
Are warriors of my tribe, renowned — 
Beyond " The Cove " their camping ground. 



ONNALINDA. 227 

Orders I sent them that with speed 
They fill the woods around the mead ; 
'T was trick of mine ; and you can tell 
Whether I proved your courage well, — 
Perhaps you heard my children yell ? 



— At this a peal of laughter broke ; 

Blue caps and feathers swung in air ; 
In triumph waved the monarch oak, 
And hill and dale exulting 'woke 

To join the jocund clamour there. 
And higher, louder than before, 
The savage shouts, in wild uproar 

Like blatant trumpets, blare. 
Sudden it ceased. . . . 

Who comes apace 

From yonder wood across the mead ? 
Two warriors of the dusky race — 

And whom between them do they lead ? 
— Nearer they come. And now we see 
His pale sad face. A captive he ? 

Q2 



2 28 ONNALINDA. 

Surely a wight in woeful strait, 
Shuffling, footsore, on hobbling gait. 

..." Ouf ! merci ! " . . . Limping sore, he groans, 

His half-shod feet on flinty stones ; 

Chapeau all torn to many a shred 

That hung like ringlets round his head ; 

Tattered his trousers, from the knees 

Dangled the frills that flout the breeze ; 

His coat seemed quite disconsolate — 

One lonely tail mourned for its mate ! — 

Buttonless now 't is held in place 

By tether rough of twisted grass. 

And see ! his face and hands are torn 

As if he came thro' briar and thorn ! 

... A rueful sight ! 

A closer view ; 
What ! is it he whom once we knew 
With jewelled fingers, dainty wrist. 
And sleek mustache to twirl and twist ? 
Lo ! is it he — that man of note, 
With manners sleek as was his coat ? 



ONNALINDA. 22g 

A burst of laughter, first from Donald, 
Followed by Eben Stark and Ronald, 
Then comrades all, till whoop and shout 
'Woke woods with laughter round about ! 
. . . The Frenchman ! 

Not to be behind. 
He scowled and then the laughter joined,. 

Gladly he saw that tartan stripe 
That once he held in loving gripe ! 
Little he thought that frank, broad face 
Of Donald could writhe in mock grimace ! 
For still he thought that terrible night 
Donald more crazed than he with fright ! 
. . . And now, as one from burning deck 
Leaps gladly from the flaming wreck. 
So he from whoop and horror grim 
Thankful escapes with life and limb ! 

His captors told : 

" In jungle thick 
We found him, lost, and tired, and sick, — 



230 ONNALINDA. 

And this. ..." 

They handed to the chief 
A missive with a message brief, 
And fearless writ in bold relief. 

Eben, he smiled with sparkling eye, 

And sly to Onnalinda bowed. 
The chieftain, beckoning, called her nigh, 

To make the " paper talk aloud." 

And Onnalinda broke the seal, 
And read : 

"To Monsieur Denonville, — 
Your threats are but as blustering wind. 

I war no more with Kawanute. 
We join your ranks when we 're too blind 

To see a Frenchman, or to shoot. 
Sharp-shooters we — all men of mark — 
You '11 find us so. 

Yours, 

Eben Stark." 



ONNALINDA. 23 1 

Uproarious laughter burst in air, 
Followed by thousand shouts afar, 
For well those braves, afar and near, 
Knew when in gamesome mood to cheer. 
And Kawanute with all the group 
Gave merry laugh and jocund whoop. 
With hand paternal on Eben's head, 
And smiling still, the chieftain said • 

" ' Sharp-shooter,' good ! — you hit the mark ! 
Give me your hand, brave Captain Stark ! " 

Then Kawanute, as if to call 
Attentive ear of warriors all. 
With voice upraised in earnest heed 
And toned to formal pomp, he said : 

" My children ! — 

Warriors of the bow. 

My brothers ! — Warriors of the gun. 
This gallant captain well you know 

Worthy to be a chieftain's son. 



232 ONNALINDA. 

If there is here a voice of doubt, 
I ask it, let it now speak out ! , . . 
No word. ... 

I ask again, shall he 
The guide of Onnalinda be 
On the long trail ? " 

The woods awoke — 
An echoing shout exultant broke, 
That shook the boughs of monarch oak ; 
And ever answered as before 
The shouts afar in clamorous roar, — 
No languid call, or bravo tame. 
Of opera lord or jewelled dame, 
But like beleaguered city's cheer 
Hailing its bold deliverer ! 

With timid glances, coy and shy. 
Drooped gentle Onnalinda's eye. 

The chieftain and old warriors dark 
Smiled greeting to brave Captain Stark ; 



ONNALINDA. 

But hidden tears of deep regret 
The younger warriors' eyelids wet, — 
Their loss in vain they strove to hide ; 
Smiling they gazed, but smiling sighed I 

XXVI 
OSSEOLO. 

One gallant youth, whose manly form 

Ne'er trembled 'neath the battle-storm — 

Whose dark eye dared the fiercest foe 

Nor quailed before his bended bow, 

Now lowly gazed with dewy eye 

In sorrow and humility. 

He deemed " sweet Onnalinda " one 

So far above his lowly sphere, 
Like votary he gazed upon 

Her lovely face but to revere. 

One eve, in the round moon of May, 
Forth to his little lodge she went, 
Where, wounded in fierce tournament. 

This youth, young Osseolo, lay. 



234 ONNALINDA. 

Across his throbbing brow her hand 
So softly, tenderly, she drew ; 
It cooled his brain like falling dew 

Upon a parched and feverous land. 

As lily over the river's brim 

Bends low its form of gentle grace, 

Bent Onnalinda over him — 
So near to his her lovely face ! 

She called him her *' sick indian brave " 
In tones of pity's tenderness ; 

And as she rose she turned and gave 
His burning brow a silent kiss, 

. . . That night he dreamed that he became 
A Saxon prince of knightly fame. 
And wooed and won the heart and hand 
Of loveliest princess in the land ; 

And "Onnalinda — princess sweet ! " 
Her name in dreams he would repeat, 



ONNALINDA- 235 

Even the dusky one may dare 
To woo, in dreams, a princess fair. 

Brief was his sunny dream of joy — 
He wakes. . . . 

Ah me ! poor indian boy. 
His dazzling dream, like meteor bright, 
Flashed by, and darker was the night ! 

One boon he keeps : 

That eve in May 
Those flowers she brought when ill he lay. 
Now withered tuft that told a tale — 
Dead daffodils and daisies pale. 

Ah ! turn we from the unhappy lot 
Of Osseolo. 

Blame him not 
If hidden tear now dimmed his eye— 
If in his heart a struggling sigh. 
Nor princess Onnalinda blame, — 
Perchance unconscious of his flame ; 



23Q onnalinda; 

Burning unseen how could she know 
The covered embers' fervid glow ? 

(. . . Ye swains ! so tender, shy, and mute- 
In war or love be resolute ! 
Love's fortress would you have surrender ? 
Ask gently bold, and bravely tender ! ) 



XXVII 
EBEN AND ONNALINDA. 

Near Onnalinda Eben stood 

With martial mien and bearing high — 
The kindling glances of his eye 

Bespoke his heart in happy mood. 

But Onnalinda seemed to be 

By thoughts both sweet and sad beset, 
As though both gladness and regret 

Were striving for the mastery. 



OXNALINDA. 237 

Her sire, the chieftain, stood sedate 

Gazing in Eben's manly face — 

Pleased by alliance with a race 
Of proud demean and high estate. 

If in his heart regret could be 

'T was hidden 'neath stoic dignity. 

One look to Heaven he gave to invoke 

The one Great Spirit of the sky, 

Then with a calm paternal eye 
And voice of majesty he spoke — 

Raising with kingly sway his hand 

As if a silence to command : 

" You, Eben Stark ! 

The old sachem hear : 
I know you brave . . . 

I think you true ; 
Else why could I now give to you 
What is to Kawanute so dear ? 

Dearer than my old heart to me — 
Dearer than all this earth is she ; 



}8' ONNALINDA. 

She leads me to the grave where lies 

One who had Onnalinda's eyes ; 

Whose gentle hand would lead me tlirough 

Dark ways where oft I could not see. 
May Onnalinda be to you 

What her sweet mother was to me ! 
Take her ! . . . 

My poor old heart goes too . . . 

May the Great Spirit with you be ! " 

With tender grace chief Kawanute 
Placed Onnalinda's gentle hand 
In Eben Stark's. 

Each warrior band 

Uprose with cheer and glad salute. 

Mingled in amity, each race 

Gave hearty greetings. 

Ronald gave 

A gift unique to Eben brave 
That brought amazement to each face ; 



ONNALINDA. 239 

At sight of it each heart beat quick, 
Till solving all its aim and drift 
They blest the fear-dispelling gift : 

A dusky ear with dainty nick ! 

Grim souvenir ! but a potent charm 
'Gainst stealthy step and dire alarm ! 

The courier, now grown merry too, 
Joined gayly in the brisk ado — 
Stood proudly up in tattered coat 
Of fray and fringe — a sans culotte ! 
Scorning to be behind the rest, 
He drew memento from his vest, 
And sly on Donald's tartan laid 
A shred to match his shortened plaid ! 

" Voila ! morbleu — whoop ! eh ? " — he cried, 
But laughed with Donald, his traitor guide 

That fearful night ! . . . 

That shred he kept, — 

Torn from the plaid when Donald leapt 
Into the jungle, terrified ! 



240 ONNALINDA. 

— Then Osseolo, shy and meek, 
Drew near — a tear upon his cheek ? — 
And placed in Eben's coat of blue 
A withered tuft of faded hue, 
Dead leaves. . . . 

Dead loves ! — that told a tale. 

Ah ! none save Onnalinda knew 

What meant those flowers, or where they grew 
The daffodil and daisy pale ! 

XXVIII 
RONALD AND GLINTING STAR. 

Now silent stood each warrior band 

As Onnalinda smiling went 
And kissed The Star, and pressed her hand 

And led her close to Ronald Kent ; 
And in his hand she softly laid 

The trembling hand of Glinting Star ! 

. . . Plaudits arose from near and far 
For Ronald and the Algonquin maid ! 



ONNALINDA. 241 

Said Kawanute in pleasant glee — 
Half earnest and half raillery : 
"... Swifter and keener woman's glance 
Than Saxon's rifle or his lance ! 
You boast of white man's strategy 
Then captive fall to her dark eye ! — 
'T is well too warm a heart is hers 
To tomahawk her prisoners '. " 

XXIX 
THE chieftain's FAREWELL. 

With merry greetings were they wed, 
And hailed with plaudits near and far. 
— Now rose the chief, oracular 

With wise and frequent pause, and said : 

" My children. . . . 

Happy be you all. . . . 
Have but one path — new trails go by. . . . 
New trails for fools in traps to fall- 
One path leads up to yonder sky." 

q 



242 ONNALINDA. 

— He turned to Onnalinda meek, 
His hand lay gently on her head, 
And in a tremulous voice he said, 

While tears fell down his war-worn cheek 



" Be happy, child ! . . . 

Wherever you go 
My poor old heart will follow you. . . . 
What your sweet mother was to me 
You to the noble Eben be. 
. . . We meet up in the happy sky — 
Be glad. . . . 

Be happy. . . . 

Sweet, good-bye." 



AUTHOR'S NOTE. 

The policy pursued by the Federal Government respecting the 
rights of the poor red man would be discreditable even to a 
weaker power ; but the iniquities perpetrated upon him by 
knavish "agents" and settlers are a reproach to civilization. 
Hireling scribes, too, pandering to the rapacity and lust of 
these men, seek to palliate these iniquities by a continuous 
smirching of the Indian character. The Indian, having no 
means for refuting these calumnies, is silent. 

I trust that in "Onnalinda," under the guise of romance, some 
truth may find its way into unwilling ears : that the purity and 
amiability, as well as the adroitness, of Onnalinda; and the fidelity 
and modesty, as well as aptitude for learning, of Glinting Star, 
will be found truthful characterizations. In the noble Kawanute 
I could wish that the defamers of his race could recognize a 
character worthy of their emulation I 



NOTES. 



BY 



WILLIAM J. BYAM. 



NOTES, 

I. 

As ifnsath Saxon face their glowed 
The ivarm maroon of Indian Mood. 

Page 3. 
The type of beauty represented in the heroine, Onnalinda, is by 
no iTicans a mere fancy sketch — it is a reality. It is computed that 
one-third of the western Indians are of mixed blood, and among 
them are many women of that singular beauty and grace of person 
of which Onnalinda is the prototype. 

II. 

Tlie matchless maid Sofronia. 

Page 22. 
Supremely beautiful !— but that she made 
Never her care, or Beauty only weigh'd 
In worth with Virtue ; and her worth acquired 
A deeper charm from blooming in the shade." 

Tasso, " Gerusalemme," Canto It. 

III. 
A blackened land of woe and wait. 

Page 35. 

The diary of the French commander during this campaign is a 
repetition, each day, of pillage and ruin. On its last page he gives 
a summary of his exploits thus: "About noon of this day we 
finished the destruction of the Indian corn. We had the curiosity 
to estimate the quantity, green as well as old corn, we destroyed in 



248 ONNALIXDA. 

the four Seneca villages, and found it would amount to one 
million two hundred thousand bushels." And here (as if his object 
was not so much to subdue the warriors as to inflict suffering and 
misery upon women and children) he adds: "We can infer from 
this the multitude of people in these four villages and the great 
suffering (doii/eur) they will experience from this devastation." 
The thoughtful reader who has been misled, by traducers of the 
Indian character, into the belief that the Indian is merely a 
" nomadic savage " who lives by " hunting and fishing," will not 
fail to note one point in Denonville's report : the quantity of corn 
destroyed ! 

IV. 

But soon base Denonville shall know. 

Page 38. 
Denonville's official report of his invasion — his ruthless devasta- 
tion of the Genesee valley— is sufficient to brand his name with the 
e pithet here given. Flippantly and shamelessly he details his 
merciless destruction of Indian villages ; and he sanctimoniously 
reports the baptism of his prisoners before turning them over to his 
Algonquin allies to be tortured ! His perfidy is well exemplified : 
after making thorough preparation for his campaign , and having 
received reinforcements from France, he availed himself of the 
services of Jesuit missionaries to induce many of the Iroquois 
chiefs to meet him at Fort Frontenac, ostensibly for a peace- 
conference. On their arrival — fifty in number — they were seized, 
ironed, and, to their utter amazement, hustled aboard ship and sent 
to France as galley-slaves ! 

V. 

To crush a knightlier, nobler race. 

Page 3g. 
" The North American Indian in his native state is an honest, 
faithful, brave, warlike, cruel, lelentless, — yet honourable, coniem- 



ONNALI\DA. 249 

p!ative, and religious being. . . . The reader should consider 
that he has fixed his eyes upon, and drawn his conclusions from, 
those Indians whose habits have been changed — whose pride has 
been cut down — whose country has been ransacked — whose native 
dignity has at last given way to the unnatural vices which civilized 
cupidity has engrafted upon them." — Catlin's " N. A. I7idia?is." 

" During the period of the planting of the Colonies, their 
sachems stood as independent ambassadors before the representa- 
tives of kings ; and the general eloquence, diplomacy, and military 
exploits of the several cantons composing the confederacy (the 
Iroquois) gave them a name and reputation coeval with Europe." 
Schookfaft' s "Notes on the Iroquois," p. 3, 



VI. 
*• Who is she ? " — as of old 'tzvas said 
When mischief thro^ the kingdom sped. 

Page 6n 

And not only the ancient philosopher, but among the moderns : 
"Heine, whenever he heard of any great movement, wished to 
have some intelligence of the woman who lay in obscurity as the 
chief cause or inspirer of it." — British Qziarterly, No. CLllI. 

Akin to this is a remark by George IV., shortly after the death 
of Bonaparte. "To the king, then in Ireland, it was announced 
thus: 'Sire your greatest enemy is dead.' 'When did she die?' 
asked the king ! " — Cory's "Modern History." 

VII. 

Sweet hope ! he 'would the captive shield. 

Page 67. 

An Indian never affronts the modesty of his female captives. 
Whether we ascribe his forbearance to caprice or to his chivalric 



250 ONXALINDA. 

spirit, he deems the purity of captive women sacred and inviolable. 
When his traducers ascribe the Indian's magnanimity in that 
respect to his "superstition," they inadvertently confess that 
women may rely upon the honour of the "savage " more than 
upon his traducers — so free from "superstition" ! The following 
emphatic avowal we quote from Catlin, Vol. II., p. 240: — " It is 
a remarkable fact, and one well recorded in history, as it deserves 
to be, to the honour of the savage, that no instance has been known 
of violence to their captive females — a virtue yet to be learned in 
civilized warfare." 

VIII. 
Rapt with the glories of Killin ! 

Page 75. 

" Killin is the most extraordinary collection of extraordinary 
scenery in Scotland, unlike everything else in the country, and 
perhaps on earth. It is a perfect picture gallery in itself, since you 
cannot move three yards without meeting a new landscape." 

McCulloch. 

IX. 
.... wi/h riJJe trite 
Can trim the -wing of humming-bird. 

P-ige 133- 
Apparently an anachronism : the art of rifling arms, however, 
was known in the seventeenth century, although the arme de 
precision is of more recent date. 

X. 

*' Call off the hound! " the chief he cried. 

Page rgg. 
The writer takes this opportunity to rebuke those hunters who 
adopt the dastardly practice of running the deer into lakes or rivers 



ONNALINDA. 25 1. 

aiid there brutally slaughtering them. During a deer-hunt in 
the wilds of Canada the writer was the unwilling and disgusted 
spectator of such scenes. On one occasion a big brawny coward 
got into a skiff and rowed out to a young doe at bay, and placed the 
muzzle of his gun within a few feet of her head. Afterwards — valiant 
man ! — he boasted of his prowess ! He could not detect the least 
irony when my Indian companion, smiling contemptuously, asked 
him : " You no 'fraid big beast bite you ? ' 

xr. 

Before viy path knew wJiite nian^s foot 
No sorrffiv knew old Kaivanute. 

Page 219. 

"You took me prisoner," said Blac^k Hawk in his speech at 
Prairie du Chien — " I fought hard. But your guns were well 
aimed. My warriors fell around me. I saw my evil day was come. 
The sun rose dim in the morning, and at night it sunk in a dark 
cloud. That was the last sim that shone on Black Hawk. His 
heart is dead. He is now a prisoner. Do with me as you wish. 
I can stand torture — not afraid of death. Black Hawk is Indian. 
You know the cause of our making war. It is known to all white 
men. They ought to be ashamed of it. White man despises 
Indians and speaks bad of us. But Indians are not deceitful, and 
they tell no lies. An Indian who is as bad as white men could not 
live in our nation — he would be put to death. White man is bad 
schoolmaster — he carries false look. He smiles m the face of poor 
Indian to cheat him — to gain him — to make him drunk — to ruin 
him. We told white man to keep away. But they followed us. 
They coiled around us like snakes. They poisoned us. We were 
becoming like them — hypocrites and liars, lazy drones, all talkers, 
no workers. We went to our great father [at Washington]. His 
great council gave us fair words, big promises. No use. Things 
growing worse. No deer in the forest, opossum and beaver fJed, 



252 ONNALINDA. 

papooses all starving. I no care for myself, but poor wife and little 
children. White man no scalp their heads, but worse — he poisons 
their hearts. Farewell my nation, Black Hawk tried to save you. 
He has done his duty. He will go to the world of spirits contented. 
His father will meet him there. Black Hawk can do no more. 
His sun is setting. Farewell to Black Hawk ! " 

Black Hawk's Speech. 

XII. 

Our hearts lie under the sacred clod ! 

Page 219. 

" You take our land. You no pay us. We sick. W'e hungry. 
We die. We leave our bones on the ground so our Great Father 
see where his red children die. We no place to bury our father, 
our mother, our little children." — Red Iron's Appeal. 



Leaving the field of romance behind us, let us for a moment 
look at realities — at the Indian of to-day : a people who are 
driven by the bayonet's point from their homes, and wlio, as 
Catlin truly says, "are dying with broken hearts, and never can 
speak to the civilized world in their own defence." The hand 
of avarice, like an importunate heir unwilling to await the slow 
process of extinction, pushes the shivering invalid from his cot 
in order to seize his estate. And let us ask. What recompense? 
A promise : yesterday a treaty and a "reservation " ; to-day an 
edict, " Moi'e on ! " The poor invalid is not only evicted— he 
is degraded and smirched before the civilized world. These 
calumnies upon his character are instigated by his oppressors for 
a double purpose— an excuse for the white man's encroachments 
and iniquities, and a pretext for their continuance. 



ONNALINDA. 25^ 

Has it ever occurred to those who spread up their hands 
in horror at Indian barbarities, that those barbarities (as a 
rule with but one notable exception) were committed within 
the Indians' own domain, against the white trespasser and 
marauder — often in the very act of pillaging their wigwams? 
We hear but one side of this bad business. The scribes are all 
in the white camp, under protection and pay, scribbling their 
slanders of the red man, and inditing panegyrics on the exploits 
of the white generals — all of which will be used as data by the 
dilettante historian in his far-away city home. In due time he 
will, as usual, serve up this "data " to a wondcrmg world, in 
a volume composed mainly of these fabrications of " war cor« 
respondents," partly of eulogies upon the heroic deeds of the 
\\hite man, and the remainder devoted to discrediting and dis- 
paraging the authentic narratives of experienced travellers.* 
But we may well fear that some day it shall be known that both 
sides of this matter have not been impartially recorded. 

In extenuation of the white man's encroachments, or of the 
Government's policy, we are continually told that cruelty 
marks the path of the Indian. Were tears and torture first 
discovered in 1492? Who introduced the tortures of cruci- 
fixion, the rack, the drawing, and quartering? Who invented 
and improved (approved hy " the Board " !) the modern instru« 

* A case in point : — Lately appeared a work on "The Red Man," in whicli its autliar 
seems to take special pleasure in decrjinrj the old and accomplished traveller and 
historian Catlin, designating him as "an enthusiast" with "lack of judgment." and 
"writing Hke a chiid " : and he dilates adniiiinijly upon the reports of certain "accom- 
pUshed officers " who have fought (and slandered I) the Indian. There is something 
ludicrous here. This compiler of history woukl fain make the world believe that men 
who, like Catlin, have lived many year^ in the homes of the red men, should know less 
of their character than a soldier who has carefully kept the long range of a sharpshooter's 
rifle between him and the "s.avage" he describes !— or than even the delicate-handed 
compilers of history in their metropolitan parlours. 



*54 ONXALIND.\. 

ments and engines of desolation and death, — are any of these 
patented by an Indian ? Let us look back through the bloody 
ages and reigns of terror, and then speak no more of Indian 
cruelty. 

When the white man first landed on these shores he found 
the Indian a peaceful, friendly, chivalrous, and honourable 
man. Columbus, four hundred years ago, wrote thus to his 
sovereigns : " / swear to your majesties that there is not a better 
people in the world than these ; more affectionate, affiible, and 
mild, and they love their neighbotirs as themselves." From that 
day to this it is the unanimous opinion of those best qualified 
by actual observation to judge, that those Indian clans, till 
disturbed by the encroaching avarice of mercenary white men, 
were an honest, peaceable, hospitable people. But the rapacity 
and cultured subtlety of the white msn have done their work. 
The brave missionaries who have toiled, and prayed, and wept 
over this remnant of the lost tribes, have been thwarted and 
rebuffed by white emissaries, who pander to the now vitiated 
tastes of the poor Indian. The good seed is no sooner sown 
than it is trampled under the feet of plunder. The poor 
Indian is no sooner impressed with the truths of revelation, 
and with his face in the grass is humbly and penitently be- 
seeching the Great Spirit for forgiveness, than out of the dark- 
ness darts a white hand (of civilization ?) and places to his 
parched lips a flagon. And the stricken Indian, ready to seize 
upon anything that will afford even a temporary relief from 
his sorrow, drowns his awakened conscience in that subtle dis- 
tillation from the alembic of "civilization." Then the very 
hand that placed the flagon to his lips points at him the finger 
of simulated scorn : " Behold the wretched vagabond ! " Then 



ONNALINDA. 255 

comes the horde of plunderers under the guise of traders, and 
for another cup of that insidious decoction the wretched Indian 
surrenders his furs and buffalo skins that should have purchased 
food and raiment for his starving, shivering wife and children. 
Naked and destitute, they retire farther toward " the setting 
sun," followed by the insatiable "traders," whose god is an 
idol wrapped in furs and buffalo robes. The Indian looks back : 
he sees that home from which he and his wretched wife and 
children have been driven, now smoking in rums ; and afar off 
he sees the plough crashing through the graves of his kindred — 
their sacred bones whitening the furrows. In his wrath and 
anguish he tiunis upon his tormenters, and commits — murder ? 
Then over the land are spread tidings of "frightful atrocities" 
committed upon the " defenceless inhabitants " by the " blood- 
thirsty savage^." Forward are hurled the troops ; onward 
follow the "traders" and plunderers; another Indian village 
is givtn up to debauchery and annihilation. This is no 
exaggeration. We may learn its truth even from the official 
report of the Congressional Invtstigating Committee on the 
"Chivington Massacre." 

For this unhappy state of aftairs the Federal Government 
should not be held altogether responsible. The antagonism in- 
volved in race distinctions, further stimulated for selfish ends by 
the cupidity of the stronger race, is doubtless a primary cause 
of the difficulty. For this the Government is amenable only 
when it fails to send honest as well as capable officials as agents 
to the " Reservations "— men who, in the face of threat or of 
bribery, will call into immediate requisition the strong arm 
of the Government to curb the encroaching rapacity of the 
frontier population. 



256 ONN'ALINDA. 

But it is in the anomalous position of the Indian before the 
law — his legal status, as absurd as it is unique — lies the mahi 
source of trouble. And for this the Federal Government or ils 
Supreme Court is responsible. The red man is " not a citizen," 
and he is "not a foreigner"! He is a nondescript. At dif- 
ferent periods he has received different designations : years ago 
he was a "domestic subject"; then a "perpetual inhabitant 
with diminutive rights " ; now he is the Government's " ward." 
The latter is manifestly a misnomer, for the "ward" in this 
case, in order to bring suit against his guardian must first obtain 
his guardian's permission ! — i.e. by special Act of Congress, or by 
authorization of the Department of the Interior. Being neither 
a citizen nor a foreigner, the Indian cannot, either personally or 
by attorney, bring suit in any court — not even to collect his 
earnings. If in this there be not both cause and excuse for 
his improvidence (" shiftlessness," so called), another cause and 
excuse may be given : he has no security that the land he may 
till this year shall be his the next. 

From all this vexed Indian problem Congress evidently has 
the power to elimhiate the disturbing factors. Let the good 
men and women of the United States demand these things : 
Give the Indian his land in absolute fee-simple title ; give hini 
that right of legal redress that is given to even the meanest 
white citizen ; cease punishing a whole tribe for an individual 
offence ; and above all let the places now held by unscrupulous 
"agents" be filled by honest, capable. God-fearing men — • 
examples, to the poor Indian, of civilization and Christianity. 



S/oitisivoode &' Co. Printers, Nczi'-street Square, London, 



ADDENDA. 



258 ONNALINDA. 

Facsimile of Letter from the Rr. Hon. John Bright. 



ONE ASH. ^^^^^Z-^. 

ROCHDALE. 



tcu^ U^r ^<'^^' 7^ ^^^^ /vyi.i,/ri^^ 



ONNALINDA. 



259 



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^^° ONNALINDA. 



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ONNALINDA. 



261 



SuBSCRrBERS for the First English Edition of Onnalinda. 



HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS OF WALES. 

HER ROVAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS LOUISE, 

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF ALBANY. 



HIS 


GRACE 


THE 


DUKE 


OF 


NORFOLK. 


HIS 


GRACE 


THE 


DUKE 


OF 


ST. ALBANS. 


HIS 


GRACE 


THE 


DUKE 


OF 


HAMILTON, KT. 


HIS 


GRACE 


THE 


DUKE 


OF 


BUCCLEUCH, K.T 


HIS 


GRACE 


THE 


DUKE 


OF 


ARGYLL, K.T. 


HIS 


GRACE 


THE 


DUKE 


OF 


PORTLAND. 


HIS 


GRACE 


THE 


DUKE 


OF 


WELLINGTON. 



The Marquis of HARTINGTON, M.P. ( 

The Earl of DERBY, K.G. | 

The Earl of ROSEBERY. [ 

The Earl SPENCER, K.G. 1 

The Earl GRANVILLE, K.G. 

The Earl of KIMBERLEY. 

The Rt. Hon. Sir WM. VERNON 

HARCOURT, M.P. 
The Rt. Hon. Sir JOHN A. MAC- 
DONALD, G.C.B. 
The Hon. Sir HENRY JAMES, Q C, 
M.P. 



The Earl of DUFFERIX, K.P., 

G.C.B., G.C.M.G. 
The Earl of CARNARVON. 
The Earl of FIFE, K.T. 
The Earl of HARROWBY. 
The Earl of DUNRAVEN, K.P. 
The Viscount CRANBROOK, G.C.S.l. 
The Rt. Hon. Lord HOUGHTON, 

D.C.L. 
The Rt. Hon. Lord TENNYSON, 

D.C.L. 
The Hon. J. R. LOWELL, D.C L. 



THE MARCHIONESS OF AILSA, 
THE BARONESS BURDETT-COUTTS, 
&c. &c. &c. 



262 



ONNALINDA. 



Autographs {in /ac-simik) on first page of List of Subscribers 
for the Fhst En:;Ush Edition of Onnalinda. 




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A-f^^^-f^ 




ONNALINDA. 



263 



Autographs (in fac -simile) on second fage of List of Subscribers 
for the First English Edition of OXNALIXDA. 




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